LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. J 

# 

. f # 

<J ha ? |wi0W|o # 

^rt&^r i 

UNITED STATES OP AMERICA, f 






c/Zt^t^t^ fo (Q/V^\ 



MEMOIR 

« < 



OF THE 



REV. JOHN EDWARDS EMERSON, 



FIRST PASTOR OP THE 

WIIITEFIELD CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH 

IN NEWBURYPORT, MASS., 



WITH EXTRACTS FROM HIS WRITINGS. 

i "}■ 

BY THE 

m 

REV. RUFUS W> CLARK, 

Pastor of the North Church, Portsmouth, N. H. 



BOSTON: 
WILLIAM J. REYNOLDS AND CO, 

MDCCCLII. 




3Xizuo 
■ EuCu 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1851, by 

RUFUS W. CLARK, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



THURSTON, TCRRV, AND EMERSON, PRINTERS. 



TO THE MEMBERS 

OF THE 

SUSWetfeUr <£onjjtegattonal <£|mrcf) antr Society 

IN NEWBURYPORT, MASS., 
THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTEULLY INSCRIBED, 

AS A TOKEN OP THE 

HIGH ESTEEM AND SINCERE AFFECTION 

OP 

THE AUTHOR. 
b 



CONTENTS. 



Introduction 1 

CHAPTER I. 
Infancy and Childhood 9 

CHAPTER II. 
From his professing Religion to entering College . 44 

CHAPTER III. 
His Residence at Amherst College 68 

CHAPTER IV. 
His Residence at Conway, Mass., &c 113 

CHAPTER V. 
Connection with Princeton Theological Seminary . 181 

CHAPTER VI. 

His Settlement over the Whitefield Church in New- 
buryport 255 

CHAPTER VII. 
Closing Scenes of his Life 303 



S CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VIII. 
Sympathy with the Bereaved 342 

CHAPTER IX. 
View of his Character and Influence .... 374 

APPENDIX. 

A. List of Clergymen, natives of Newbury and 

Newburyport, Mass 395 

B. Names of Members of the Whitefield Church . 399 

C. Order of Exercises at the Ordination . . . 402 

D. Order of Exercises at the Funeral .... 404 



INTRODUCTION. 

A desire having been very generally ex- 
pressed, that a Memoir of the late Mr. 
Emerson should be prepared, his friends 
placed in my hands his papers and letters, 
with the request that I would undertake 
the work. In executing the task assigned 
me, I feel that not only a kindness is done 
to the relatives and personal friends of the 
departed, but a service is rendered % to the 
community at large. It is true that we have 
already a great number of excellent biogra- 
phies ; and not a few persons question the 
expediency of adding to this species of lite- 
rature, of which the supply is so abundant. 
For one, I rejoice that there are so many 
works of this character, and I hope that 
there will be a great many more. The 



INTRODUCTION. 



large number of works of a pernicious ten- 
dency, that have been published, does not pre- 
vent their increase, and shall " the children 
of this world, in their generation," be "wiser 
than the children of light 1 " 

We live, too, in an age when mankind are 
influenced more by example than precept; 
when a life has more power than a principle. 
Men, before adopting a truth or system, de- 
sire to see its workings upon character, as 
well as listen to arguments in its favor ; and 
an augmentation of this kind of religious in- 
fluence should be coveted, as much as new 
developments of truth, or an increase of 
evidence in support of any particular doc- 
trine or principle. A new living testimony 
to the practical power of Christianity, should 
be saved from oblivion, and should, if pos- 
sible, be incorporated in that system of moral 
means that is designed to elevate and bless 
society. The efficacy of the Gospel, in pen- 
etrating and controlling the hearts of men, 
is derived in a great measure from the life 



INTRODUCTION. 



of its Author. Before Christ appeared, man- 
kind had laws and principles. Systems of 
truth were presented to them for their ac- 
ceptance, by teachers inspired and unin- 
spired. But they failed to secure general 
obedience. Under their sway, darkness 
continued to " cover the earth, and gross 
darkness the people." 

But the Messiah comes to furnish a per- 
fect example, as well as a perfect theory. 
He comes to live, as well as to teach 
Christianity; and a system through which 
shines the lustre of his eminent virtues, a 
system radiant with the beauty, loveliness 
and holiness of his character, this is " the 
power of God and the wisdom of God" 
unto the salvation of men. 

The most influential Christian writers 
have been as eminent for the purity and 
holiness of their lives, as for the sound- 
ness of their doctrines. Their writings have 
indeed acted upon their characters, and 
their characters have reacted upon their 



INTRODUCTION. 



writings ; and the combined influence of 
both has given to them a power that shall 
last while the Gospel lasts ; that shall grow 
and expand with the growth and expansion 
of Christianity. 

There is something, too, about example, 
whether it be good or bad, beneficial or 
pernicious, that is imperishable. While the 
death sentence is rigorously executed upon 
the body, the influence lives. " It is," says 
one, " a high, solemn, almost awful thought 
for every individual man, that his earthly 
influence, which has had a commencement, 
will never through all ages, were he the 
very meanest of us, have an end ! What is 
done, is done ; has already blended itself 
with the boundless, ever-living, ever-working 
universe, and will also work there for good 
or for evil, openly or secretly, throughout 
all time." Though all that is mortal of 
eminent skeptical writers, whom Ave might 
name, has long since mingled with the dust, 
yet the influence of their characters lives. 



INTRODUCTION. 



Their opinions are, even at this hour, trav- 
elling through society, fortifying the unbe- 
lieving, creating doubts in-the minds of the 
inquiring, and blasting with their poisonous 
influence the virtues and hopes of multi- 
tudes. 

But independent of the general power of 
example and character, we must all have 
noticed the signal blessings which have at- 
tended religious biographies. Who, com- 
paratively speaking, ever heard of James B. 
Taylor, Harlan Page, James Brainerd, and 
others that might be mentioned, before their 
memoirs were given to the world. These 
holy men died in order to live. They, most 
of them, died young, in order that their 
influence might possess immortal youth. 
Their death was the signal that attracted 
public attention to their memory, and never 
at any former period was their influence 
greater than it is now. "While they lived, a 
few minds were benefited by their example, 
instructions and prayers. Now, thousands 



INTRODUCTION. 



throughout Christendom feel the hallowed 
influence of their piety. Multitudes, as 
they read of the religious exercises, emo- 
tions, conflicts and victories of these heroes 
in the Christian warfare, have their own 
faith strengthened, their hopes quickened, 
and their desires for usefulness kindle with 
new and fresh ardor. They obtain at their 
hands weapons, with which to fight the 
battle of life, with which to contend against 
the triple forces of "the world, the flesh, 
and the devil." They learn from them the 
way of access to the mercy-seat ; learn the 
value of the diligent study of God's word; 
learn the benefits of religious meditation, 
and thorough self-examination ; learn, what 
we most need to know, how to die ; how to 
leave these familiar scenes w T ith composure, 
and enter upon the mysterious future life 
with " songs and everlasting joys " upon our 
heads. 

In seeking a place in the picture-gallery 
of the saints, for the subject of this memoir, 



INTRODUCTION. 



we are ambitious for no conspicuous po- 
sition ; neither do we desire to adorn his 
fair and mild countenance with an elaborate 
and gilded frame-work. We would rather, 
as most congenial with his own modest and 
placid spirit, select some retired nook or 
corner, where the spectator in his meditative 
moods may pause, and look upon one who 
humbly, yet earnestly, strove to serve his 
Master ; who, like the beloved disciple, de- 
lighted to lean upon Jesus' bosom, and to 
receive the w r ords of wisdom and love that 
fell from his lips. If viewed attentively, 
there may be discovered in this countenance 
traces of the influence of divine love. The 
eye beams, almost sparkles with Christian 
hope. The brow is solemn with thoughts 
of God and eternity. The cheek, though 
faded by disease, wears an aspect of serenity. 
The lips are ready to speak of the love of 
Christ, ready to offer encouragement to the 
believer, consolation to the afflicted, invita- 
tions of mercy to the penitent. 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

If, indeed, no other benefit results from 
this volume, the author will have the happi- 
ness of feeling that his own soul has been 
blessed by communion with such a spirit ; 
that his own piety has been quickened, his 
own hopes strengthened, by having had the 
life and character of such a man pass in 
review before him. We trust, however, that 
others may be equally benefited. We trust 
that the young may here learn how to live 
consistent Christian lives, amid the trials and 
temptations to which they are peculiarly 
exposed. We trust that parents may derive 
from this volume encouragement, to dedicate 
their children to a covenant-keeping God; 
and to offer the prayer of faith for their 
early conversion. We trust that the mem- 
bers of a bereaved church and society may, 
in their leisure hours, resort hither to com- 
mune with a pastor, who felt an interest in 
their spiritual welfare, and loved them with 
a devotion, that, we are confident, was never 
surpassed. 



MEMOIR 



CHAPTER I. 

INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD, 1823-1836. 

John Edwards Emerson was born in 
Newburyport, Mass., September 27th, 1823. 
He was the son of Mr. Charles L. and Mrs. 
Rhoda P. Emerson, and the grandson of the 
Rev. John Emerson, who for more than fifty 
years was an able and devoted minister of 
the gospel in Conway, Mass. The ancestry 
of Mr. Emerson is distiDguished for the large 
number of faithful ministers which it has 
furnished. Joseph Emerson, w r ho came from 
England, and who was probably the pro- 
genitor of all who bear his name, was a cler- 
gyman in Mendon, Mass., a small settlement 
that was, after his residence there, broken 
up by the Indians. He removed to Concord 
with his family, where he died in 1680. 



10 MEMOIR. 

Joseph Emerson of Maiden, son of Ed- 
ward, and grandson of Joseph Emerson of 
Mendon, was also a clergyman. He was 
bom in Chelmsford, educated at Harvard 
College, and settled in Maiden in 1721, and 
died in 1767, aged 67 years. Three of his 
sons were ministers ; Joseph, of Pepperell, 
William, of Concord, and John, of Con- 
w 7 ay, — the latter, the grandfather of John, 
the subject of this memoir. 

Both of Mr. Emerson's parents were mem- 
bers of the First Presbyterian Church, in 
New T buryport, and in infancy he was bap- 
tized by the Rev. S. P. "Williams, then pastor 
of the church. At a very early age he mani- 
fested decisive marks of a religious disposi- 
tion, and a high degree of conscientiousness. 
His parents and friends treasure up in their 
memory many striking and pleasing inci- 
dents illustrative of his sensitiveness under 
the least deviation from rectitude and truth. 
Whenever he did any thing that he thought 
w^as wrong, he could not rest until he had 
hastened to his parents and obtained their 
forgiveness. 

One day, having read in his Bible the 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 



11 



passage, " Confess your faults one to an- 
other," he went to his mother, and with 
emotion manifested in his countenance, re- 
ferred to what he had been reading, and said 
that he had taken something from the closet 
without permission, and wished to confess 
the wrong, as the holy Bible required. 

Every Sabbath noon the children were 
required to repeat the ten commandments, 
and after each one, they were asked whether 
during the preceding week they had been 
guilty of its violation ; — a plan eminently 
calculated to implant right principles in 
their young hearts. One evening after the 
eighth commandment had been repeated, 
John remarked that the day before, he picked 
up a cent in an adjoining yard, and thinking 
that it might belong to one of the neighbors 
he did not feel right to retain it, and pro- 
posed to take it to them the next day, and 
very cheerfully did so. This hour on the 
Sabbath, between one and two o'clock, was 
peculiarly precious to John through life. It 
was at this time especially that his mother 
sought to make deep religious impressions 
upon the minds of her children, and lead 



12 



MEMOIR. 



them to repent of any sins they had com- 
mitted during the previous week. Even 
when John was absent from home, he would 
spend the hour in prayer and meditation. 

When very young, he was in the habit of 
praying in secret ; and from the commence- 
ment, his prayers were remarkable for their 
appropriateness and fervency. 

Among his childish propensities was a 
fondness for imitating the preacher, and 
going through with the services of public 
worship. He would even carry the matter 
so far as to appear to exchange with the 
brethren in the ministry, and so perfectly did 
he imitate the voice, manner and gestures of 
others, that it was at once apparent with 
whom he was exchanging. 

This disposition of his mind to imitate, 
which, however, seldom degenerated into 
mimicry, he early restrained; and from a 
child was remarkable for his profound rever- 
ence for every thing pertaining to religion. 

Although he was always more or less 
thoughtful and serious, yet on the last Sab- 
bath in December, 1833, he passed through 
a crisis in his feelings that decided his re- 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 13 

ligious character for this life, and his hopes 
for eternity. The previous Saturday even- 
ing a more th^n usual seriousness was appa- 
rent in his countenance and deportment. 
The Spirit of God was evidently striving 
with him, and he felt that he must make a 
full and entire consecration of himself to 
Christ. 

Sabbath morning he came home from 
church bathed in tears. He asked his mother 
to accompany him up stairs — said that he 
was a great sinner. She urged him to go to 
God with his desires and troubles. Befer- 
ring to his meditations, he said, " But Mary 
kept all these things and pondered them in 
her heart." He then fell upon his knees, 
and poured out his soul in supplication be- 
fore God. His mother stood near, perfectly 
astonished at his fervency, and the appro- 
priateness, beauty and force of his language. 
He prayed as one who had long had access 
to the mercy-seat; one w r ho was acquainted 
with the workings and treachery of the hu- 
man heart, and who felt his entire depend- 
ence upon God for strength and hope. After 
dinner he communicated his feelings more 
2 



14 MEMOIR. 

fully to both of his parents, and they, with 
paternal affection and Christian earnestness, 
directed him to " the Lamb of God which 
taketh away the sin of the world." Again 
they had a season of prayer together, and 
the spirit of the young disciple was comforted 
and refreshed. 

A few days after this took place, an inqui- 
ry meeting was appointed to be held in the 
church at the close of a public religious ser- 
vice. All who desired to converse with the 
minister, on the subject of their soul's salva- 
tion, were invited to remain. John accepted 
the invitation and tarried. While sitting in 
his seat, he observed some boys in the gallery 
pointing to him and laughing. The blood 
rushed to his cheeks, and feeling keenly the 
ridicule, he took his hat in his hand to leave 
the house ; just as he w 7 as rising to go, these 
lines flashed into his mind : 

" Ashamed of Jesus, that dear friend, 
On whom my hopes of heaven depend! " 

In an instant he was ready to reply: 

" No ! when I blush, be this my shame, 
That I no more revere his name." 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 



15 



Immediately he resumed his seat, laid aside 
his hat, and resolved that, God helping him, 
he would stride, in spite of every obstacle, to 
obtain, salvation. 

In conversation with the minister, he stated 
his views and wishes, and was urged to ex- 
ercise sincere repentance for sin, and rely 
solely upon the merits and sufferings of 
Christ for pardon and acceptance. 

A pious friend residing in the family re- 
lates the following touching incident : 

" In February, 1834, when John slept in 
the trundle-bed in my room, very early in 
the morning, I heard him weeping, and now 
and then a whisper ; at first I took no notice 
of it. He continued weeping for some time ; 
I then said, ' John, what is the matter ? ' He 
did not answer me, but wept more bitterly. 
I went to him and said, ' What ails you, 
John, are you sick ] ' He then with great 
sobbing said, ' I am such a great sinner, I 
am afraid God will not forgive my sins.' I 
said a little to him about Christ. His heart 
seemed to be broken, and his face was wet 
with tears. I told him he might go into 
Aunt L.'s room, and she would talk with 



If) 



MEMOIR. 



him, (a lady who was visiting at our house 
at the time ;) he went, and found her en- 
gaged, so that she could say but little to 
him. He then came to me and said, ' No 
one cares about my soul.' I then told him 
to go into his room, and tell the Saviour all 
about it ; he would care for him. He went 
and staid until breakfast was ready, when 
he came to the table, ate but little, and 
appeared very solemn, and seemed in a very 
subdued state." 

In March he wrote (being then ten years 
old) to his brother William the following 
letter, giving an account of his feelings and 
hopeful conversion. 

" Newburyport, March 22, 1834. 

" Dear Brother, — I have long wanted to 
write, to tell you my feelings. The last time 
that you were at home from Andover, on 
Saturday evening, a dark and stormy night, 
mother w r as conversing with us on the sub- 
ject of religion. She said that, probably, a 
great many persons before the next Satur- 
day night would be sealed for heaven or 
hell. Those words made a deep impression 
upon my mind, and I hope will never be 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 17 

effaced. The next day (Sabbath) I felt very 
much what a sinner I was. I read the 
second chapter of Proverbs, which gave 
some comfort to my mind ; I hope that you 
will read it. Monday, the protracted meet- 
ings began here ; I attended them all but 
three. 

" I kept on with my hope in Christ till 
one Sabbath morning I received such light, 
peace and comfort, that I came down from 
my chamber and asked mother to go up 
with me. She did so, and we read and 
prayed, and had a most delightful season ; 
I went to the Sabbath school afterwards, 
and communicated my feelings to my teach- 
er ; he was delighted. I then went to meet- 
ing, and heard a sermon from this text : — 
' Keep thy heart with all diligence, for out 
of it are the issues of life.' It was just 
what I wanted. I went home rejoicing in 
my Saviour. 

"After the meeting in the afternoon an 
inquiry meeting was appointed, and a great 
many persons stopped. I was one of them. 
Dr. Skinner addressed us, and showed us 
our duty, showing that Christ requires us 
2* 



IS 



MEMIOR. 



to deny ourselves, take up the cross and 
follow liim. 

" For the last two or three days, I have 
had light and comfort poured into my .oul. 
I feel as though I could trust in the Lord 
at all times. O, William, I do earnestly 
hope that you and Charles will he brought 
to see the error of your ways, and now ' turn 
unto the Lord, who will have mercy upon 
you, and to our God, who will abundantly 
pardon.' I do hope that your feet will be 
taken out of the horrible pit and miry clay 
and planted upon the rock Christ Jesus. I 
know how many temptations and snares you 
are exposed to, but you must pray to God to 
keep you from them, and from the great 
adversary of souls. 

" I have a chamber where, morning, noon 
and evening, I retire to read the Scriptures, 
pray, and meditate, and sometimes sing. I 
have many a time had sweet communion 
with God, and many a time have had to 
weep and mourn over my folly and sins. But 
I trust that I shall not have to mourn much 
more, for I hope to live very near to God. 
"We have no minister yet at our church ; but 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 19 

we have meetings most all the time, and I 
attend them, and find them a great deal 
more interesting than I did before I felt as 
I do now on the subject of religion. The 
Sabbath is more precious to me now, and I 
can treasure up a great deal more of the 
sermon than I used to. Sometimes I feel as 
if I could see God right before me, w 7 hile I 
am praying ; but I find that when I sin, I 
do not get such nearness to him. 

" Mother, Samuel, and I have an hour 
every Sunday between the ringing of the 
bells in the afternoon, and w^e have very 
pleasant seasons together. Samuel, we hope, 
is thinking on the subject of religion. He 
has attended a great many of the meetings. 
He told mother to-day, that w r hat made him 
want to pray was this sentence, — ' Praying 
will make us leave off sinning, and sinning 
will make us leave off praying.' He wants 
you to learn it. He prays for you every 
day most sincerely, and I hope his prayers 
for you will be answered. 

" We have now a great revival in this 
town ; many souls have been converted. 

" I hope you will write me a very long 



20 IfEMOIR. 

letter in return for this, and I hope to hear 
that you have turned to God. Pray for me, 
and the Lord be with you and bless you for- 
ever and ever. 

" Your affectionate brother, 

" J. E. Emerson." 

In such simple and pious language did 
our little convert relate what the Lord had 
done for his soul. His allusions to his sea- 
sons of prayer are peculiarly touching, and, 
indeed, prayer was his meat and drink. 

On one occasion, he was praying aloud as 
was his custom, and a friend overheard him 
in an adjoining room. After listening for a 
few moments, she was so affected by his 
earnestness and childlike confidence in God, 
that she burst into tears. Such a prayer she 
never heard before from infant lips. 

Whenever he committed sin, or had any 
thing upon his mind that troubled him, he 
at once went to the throne of grace, and 
there obtained relief and comfort. This 
privilege w T as never to him a mere form, but 
was a blessed reality. He felt that there 
was power and efficacy in prayer ; and he 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 21 

loved to bend the knee before his Heavenly 
Father, and abide in the light of his divine 
countenance. He had each day three sea- 
sons of prayer, and as he entered his little 
sanctuary he would repeat the following 
lines : — 

" By morning light I '11 seek his face, 
At noon repeat my cry ; 
The night shall hear me ask his grace, 
Nor will he long deny." 

After he commenced attending school, he 
would hasten home to his quiet retreat, and 
enjoy a little season of communion with 
God. 

Feeling a strong desire to be useful to 
others, he voluntarily established a prayer 
meeting among his schoolmates; and he 
led their devotions with all the propriety 
and solemnity of one who had enjoyed a long 
Christian experience. Often, too, he might 
be seen earnestly conversing with them upon 
the importance of loving God, obeying their 
parents, speaking the truth, and avoiding 
every sin. 

His interest in the public services of the 
sanctuary, was manifested, too, at a very early 



22 MEMOIR 

age. He loved to go with his parents to 
the house of God, and his remarks upon the 
sermon and other exercises, on returning 
home, showed that he had listened with 
attention, and with unusual discrimination, 
for one of his years. 

The views he entertained of ministerial 
excellence were very exalted ; and he took 
great delight in the society of ministers. 
When listening to their conversation or 
prayers, and especially when they conversed 
with him, he seemed to be perfectly happy. 

The ordinances of the gospel, the rite of 
baptism, the holy sacrament, and the cove- 
nant which God entered into with his chil- 
dren, w 7 ere peculiarly dear to him. It is not 
a little remarkable that the mind of one so 
young should have dwelt so much upon 
these ordinances. He would often refer to 
his own baptism, and would make inquiries 
respecting the Lord's supper and the cove- 
nant, which showed that his thoughts were 
often busy with these themes. In this 
respect, his example teaches a valuable 
lesson to those of a maturer age. 

The Sabbath was a very precious day to 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 23 

eTolm. Its morning light lie hailed with 
gratitude and pleasure. Early might his 
voice be heard ascending to his Father in 
Heaven, for the divine blessing upon his own 
soul, his parents, and upon the exercises of 
the day. Its hours were never wearisome, 
its duties never irksome, even to his youth- 
ful spirit. There seemed, indeed, every day 
to be a Sabbath, with its peaceful, hallowed 
influences abiding in his soul, and the privi- 
leges and sacred associations of the day 
appeared to be more congenial to his feel- 
ings, than the employments of the week. 

We would, by no means, present the char- 
acter of this youth as faultless. We would 
use no false colorings in delineating his traits 
and virtues. We simply give the impres- 
sions that we have received from many wit- 
nesses. All testify to his purity, loveliness 
of disposition, and tender regard for sacred 
things. 

His fondness for reading was manifested 
at an early age. The books that specially 
interested him, were the lives of persons 
eminent for their piety. The Memoir of 
Nathan Dickerman, of Mary Lothrop, the 



24 



MEMOIR. 



Exercises of Harriet Newell, and works of a 
similar character, he read over and over 
again. He longed to be imbued with their 
devotional spirit, and mould his character 
after the patterns here presented. Nor do 
we deem the opinion tinged with partiality, 
when w r e say, that, in our estimation, the 
disciple surpassed his teachers. 

The Bible, however, was John's greatest 
treasure. He did not simply read it. He 
studied it. He prayed over it. He could 
say, " Thy Word is a lamp unto my feet, 
and a light unto my path." He stored his 
memory with its most precious and forcible 
passages ; and this enabled him, during his 
life, to make on all occasions appropriate 
and striking quotations from the Scriptures. 
He often appeared to think in Bible lan- 
guage, and mould his ideas in Bible imagery. 
The beautiful figures scattered throughout 
the Psalms of David — the sublime lan- 
guage of the prophets — the pictorial in- 
structions of the Saviour — delighted his 
youthful imagination. He was particularly 
fond of the Proverbs of Solomon, and the 
second chapter he was in the habit of call- 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 25 

ing his chapter, as he had read it over, I 
think I may say, hundreds of times. He 
referred to this chapter on his death-bed, 
and remarked that it had always been his 
guide. The words of the wise man seemed 
ever to ring in the ear of his memory, — 
" If thou criest after knowledge, and liftest 
up thy voice for understanding ; if thou 
seekest her as silver, and searchest for her as 
for hid treasures ; then shalt thou under- 
stand the fear of the Lord, and find the 
knowledge of God." 

When Mr. Emerson was between ten and 
twelve years of age, he read entirely through 
Scott's Bible, with the notes and practical 
remarks. It was his custom to read a chap- 
ter or two each day, aloud, with the notes. 
Thus he furnished his mind with a fund of 
Biblical knowledge, that he found of great 
service in after life. Besides he acquired, 
by the exercise, no small degree of mental 
discipline, and cultivated a taste for the 
study of other and more critical, and elabo- 
rate commentaries upon the Scriptures. The 
completion of this undertaking within so 
short a period, is proof of the energy, as 
3 



26 MEMOIR. 

well as the devotional character of his mind. 
But few of his age would have manifested 
such perseverance, or have devoted so much 
time to such an exercise. While other lads 
were engaged in their sports, he wa$ in his 
little sanctuary, bending over the sacred vol- 
ume, and preparing, though unconsciously, 
for an early summons to the temple above. 

His parents, besides doing all in their 
power to develop and strengthen these re- 
ligious tendencies, were also careful to shield 
their son from the evil influence of improper 
companions. For such society John, too, had 
a positive aversion. The wicked, language 
and censurable conduct of such boys sent a 
chill through his heart, and he avoided them 
as much as possible. In so doing he 
certainly acted most wisely : for of all the 
pernicious influences to which children are 
exposed, I know of none more destructive 
than that which flows from bad associates. 
In vast multitudes of instances, the faithful 
instructions of parents, the warnings of 
friends, the good effects of early religious 
culture, are lost in this vortex of iniquity. 
While the Christian parent, at home, is 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 



27 



doing all in his power to promote the 
growth of right principles, and fortify the 
mind against the power of temptation, the 
child is often learning that abroad which 
will blast and scath his character, and 
eventually defeat all the efforts that are 
made to train him to habits of virtue and 
holiness. Many of the young who, on 
leaving home for our large cities, fall vic- 
tims to dissipation, carry with them the 
seeds of vice sown by the hand of improper 
associates. While they remain under the 
parental roof, they are subject to restraints 
that prevent these secret sins from ripening 
into open transgression. But these restraints 
removed, and the youth left free to act for 
himself, then the poison begins to work. 
Then its ruinous effects are experienced; 
and in the contest between the hallowed 
influences of home, and these awakened evil 
tendencies of the heart, the youth is fortu- 
nate if he escapes absolute destruction. 

This, however, is not the place to discuss 
so grave and important a subject ; yet we can- 
not but remark that Mr. Emerson was 
greatly indebted for his purity of mind, 



28 



MEMOIR. 



integrity of character, and strict conscien- 
tiousness, to his freedom from these baneful 
influences. He uniformly sought the so- 
ciety of the good, the virtuous, and the wise. 
He delighted in the company of those older 
than himself, and was fond of mingling with 
those visitors at his house, who were emi- 
nent for their piety, and were ready to con- 
verse on religious subjects. The fair little 
boy, with his intelligent blue eye, his 
thoughtful brow 7 , his pensive countenance, 
his respectful demeanor, might be seen often, 
sitting for hours, and drinking in the words 
that fell from those w 7 ho spoke of Christ, 
and conversed upon the doctrines and bless- 
ings of our holy religion. Under such in- 
fluences was he nurtured, and by such means 
was he protected from the evils of pernicious 
companions. 

When between ten and eleven years of 
age, John was prostrated by sickness. His 
diligence in his studies, and constant attend- 
ance upon religious meetings, exhausted his 
strength, and weakened his constitution, 
which was naturally feeble. His religious 
impressions at this time were becoming very 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 29 

deep ; and the glow of a heavenly fervor 
was pervading more fully his soul. He knew 
not but that he should die ; yet his spirit was 
full of rapturous delight. He felt that he 
could rely upon God, that Jesus was his 
friend, that heaven was his home. Much of 
his time was spent in fervent prayer, and 
in listening to the reading of the Bible 
and other religious books. Several hymns 
which he had committed to memory, he re- 
peated often, and with much apparent emo- 
tion. The following beautiful stanzas of 
the hymn commencing, " Ye angels who 
stand around the throne," afforded him very 
great delight. 

11 Oh, when will the period appear, 

When I shall unite in your song ! 
I 'm weary of lingering here, 

And I to your Saviour belong ! 
I 'm fetter'd and chained up in clay ; 

I struggle and pant to be free, 
1 long to be soaring away, 

My God and my Saviour to see. 

I want to put on my attire, 

Washed white in the blood of the Lamb ; 
I want to be one of your choir, 

And tune my sweet harp to his name ; 
3* 



30 



MEMOIR. 



I want — Oh, I want to be there, 
Where sorrow and sin bid adieu, — 

Your joy and your friendship to share, 
To wonder and worship with you." 

This last stanza he repeated with deep emo- 
tion. 

On recovering his health, he felt more 
than ever the importance of making an en- 
tire consecration of himself to Christ. His 
feelings at this time are expressed in the fol- 
lowing letter, which he wrote to his friend, 
Mr. S. N. Tenny, of Boston, under date of 
July 5th, 1834:' 

"Dear Sir, — Your kind letter of June 
the 12th, I received and read with much 
pleasure. You were certainly very kind to 
take such an interest in me, as to write such 
a long letter. You say that you hope my 
health is improving. I can with pleasure 
assure you that it has entirely recovered, 
and I can truly say, 'What shall I render to 
the Lord for all his benefits ? ' I hope that 
I shall remember his goodness with grati- 
tude, and live nearer to him than I did 
before. I hope that you will pray for me 
that I may have that tenderness of con- 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 31 

science, and humble heart, that you spoke 
of in your letter. 

" Our little praying circle of boys still 
continues to meet, and nearly all feel inter- 
ested in the great and important subject of 
religion. This afternoon we had a meeting, 
and though there were but three present, we 
yet had a good time ; for the Lord has prom- 
ised that where but two or three are met to- 
gether in his name, he will be in the midst of 
them, and that to bless them. Oh, Mr. T., do 
pray for us that we may continue steadfast 
— that we may not go back to the beggarly 
elements of this sinful world, but be enabled 
to ' press toward the mark for the prize of 
the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.' 
What an awful thing it would be, after seek- 
ing Christ, to turn back again to sin, and 
folly, and unbelief. Do pray for me, also, 
that I may not be left to go back to the 
world, and that I may be kept from the 
great adversary of souls. Please to pray 
also for my dear young companions, whom, 
I fear, have no interest in Christ, that they 
may be brought to love the Saviour, and 
repent before is is forever too late. Remem- 



32 MEMOIR. 

ber, especially, those who have no dear 
parents to pray for them as I have. 

" I hope that the dear children under 
your care in the Sabbath School, will profit 
much by your instructions, and that you 'will 
have the pleasure, if God spares your life, 
of seeing them grow up and doing good for 
Christ. I will try to remember them and 
you in my prayers. # * * 

" Your affectionate young friend, 

" J. E. E." 

At this time John commenced keeping a 
journal, thinking that by daily recording his 
feelings, he might better watch over his 
heart and life. The following extracts are 
taken from the first few pages : 

"Sabbath-day, July 13fA, 1834. I have 
resolved to write a little in this book, as 
often as I can, respecting my feelings. For 
two or three days past I have been in a 
right frame of mind. I have felt more like 
obeying my parents, conforming to the wishes 
of my friends, more like serving God, and 
praying, and reading the Bible, and good 
books. The sermons I heard to-day, were 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 33 

very excellent ; and I trust that they will do 
me good. 

" Monday. I make it a practice to per- 
form my closet duties at some stated time ; 
at seven o'clock in the morning, twelve at 
noon, and seven at night. As the length of 
the days alter, I alter the times for prayer. 

" Sabbath-day, August 11th. This has been 
to me a blessed day. I think that I have felt 
the preciousness of heaven more than 1 ever 
did before. Oh, the bliss of that bright 
world where saints and angels dwell! My 
Heavenly Father has permitted me to go up 
to his house twice to-day, and listen to two 
sermons, — which, I trust, will be blessed to 
me, and to all others. 

" Monday. My feelings to-day, are not as 
they were yesterday ; yet I hope that I may 
have more of those feelings. As I grow in 
years, I hope to grow more and more in the 
knowledge of my Lord and Saviour, and to 
love and serve God better than I have in 
years past. 

" Wednesday. Oh, that I had more of the 
spirit of Jesus ! that mild and forgiving 
spirit, that he constantly exercised ! I feel 



34 



MEMOIR. 



that I am a great sinner ; I offend the very 
God who made us, and who is so good to all 
his creatures. 

" Friday. I have taken an earlier time 
for my closet duties, this morning. I will 
try and see if I cannot follow in my blessed 
Master's steps, for he arose before daylight, 
and agonized in prayer. 

" Saturday, August 23d. The blessed Sab- 
bath is drawing near. Delightful day ! May 
I be prepared for its duties, and enjoy its 
sacred privileges. What have I done the 
past week ? Oh, I fall far — far short of 
my duty! Oh, may I wake up, and realize 
where I am, and what I am doing, and w 7 hom 
I am serving ! " 

March 16th, 1835. He wrote thus in his 
journal: 

" It is now a long time since I have writ- 
ten in my journal, but I now feel in the 
right frame of mind to write, and tell of the 
love of Jesus, which is burning in my soul. 
During the past winter, I have not felt as 
Christ requires his followers to feel. I have 
been indifferent and cold in religion. My 
heart has been like the rivers and lakes, 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 35 

bound up with impenetrable ice. But now 
that spring has come, and the sun shines 
brightly, I trust that my spirit will be 
wanned, and I hope that every changing 
season will find me more engaged in loving 
and serving God. 

"Sabbath, March 29th. Through the 
abundant goodness of God, we are permitted 
to see another Sabbath. But what have we 
done for God, the past week ? I think that 
I have had more than usual delight in prayer, 
in reading the Scriptures, &c. My sins con- 
tinue to trouble me, but I pray to God for 
forgiveness, and for strength to resist temp- 
tation. Have been reading that beautiful 
Psalm, — ' The Lord is my shepherd, I shall 
not want.' Oh, that it might make a deeper 
impression on my mind ! that I might indeed 
lie down in green pastures, and beside the 
still waters of salvation ! 

" Thursday, April, 1835. This is Fast 
Day, appointed by the State as a day in 
which to repent of sin, and humble our- 
selves before God. How have we improved 
it ? I fear that many have been neglecting 
the day, and playing, rather than confessing 



36 MEMOIR. 

their sins. ' Behold,' says God, ' ye fast for 
strife and debate, and to smite with the fist 
of wickedness. * * * Is it such a fast 
as I have chosen % a day for a man to afflict 
his soul ] is it to bow down his head as a 
bulrush, and to spread sackcloth and ashes 
under him ? * * # Is not this the fast 
I have chosen, — to loose the bonds of wick- 
edness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to 
let the oppressed go free, and that ye break 
every yoke? Is it not to deal thy bread to 
the hungry'? ' &c. Now, have we obeyed 
these injunctions ] Has this fast been an 
acceptable one to the Lord ? I fear that 
too many of us have failed to examine our 
hearts, — failed to repent of sin, and pray 
as we ought for God's blessing upon our 
guilty nation. 

"Sabbath, April 12. Through the tender 
mercies of God we have been permitted 
again to go up to his house, and some of his 
children have had the privilege of sitting 
around the communion table, and commem- 
orating the dying love of Christ. Oh, that 
I may soon be one of their number, and 
enjoy the rich benefits of meeting my Sa- 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 37 

viour at his own table. I long for entire 
sanctification — for a vital union to Christ. 

" I also feel anxious to be useful — to do 
something for the honor of my Master, to 
labor in his vineyard, and to live more en- 
tirely for his glory than I have ever done 
before." 

Under date of April 9, 1835, he wrote to 
his friend, Mr. T. of Boston : 

"Dear Sir, — Your letter dated Feb. 17th, 
I received, and was very much gratified that 
you had not forgotten me. At your request 
I will try to give you some account of my 
feelings the past winter. I do not think I 
have felt as much engaged in the subject of 
religion as I did a year ago. But, for a 
w r eek or two past, I have had my feelings 
somew T hat revived. I have felt more like 
loving God, more like praying, and more 
like serving him than I have ever before. 
I have had, along back, many fears of death. 
I feared I was such a sinner, that God would 
not accept me ; but now I feel these doubts, 
in a measure, removed. I hope you will 
pray for me, that I may hate every sin, and 
4 



38 



MEMOIR. 



grow in every Christian grace ; that I may 
have strength to speak to my young com- 
panions on the subject of religion, and 
set before them a good example. I have 
hitherto had too many fears about speaking 
to them on this all-important subject. I 
fear that most or all of those, of my young 
companions, who met to pray when you 
were here, have gone back again to the 
world. They do not appear to wish to say 
any thing upon the subject. I hope you 
will pray for me that I may be kept from 
denying Christ, or following a multitude to 
do evil. I was glad to hear that so many 
of your Sabbath scholars have an interest 
in the Saviour. I hope they may be enabled 
to keep on in the Christian course, and may 
they, and I, and all children, be at last found 
on the right hand of God. I am glad that 
you have had such joyful news about your 
little brother. I hope that he may grow up 
to be a minister of the gospel, and be the 
means, under God, of saving many souls. 
My health, which was poor when I was in 
Boston, has been very good this winter. I 
have been able to attend school and meetings 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 39 

most of the time. We have no minister yet, 
but have had some excellent preaching. I 
lately heard a sermon on Justification by 
Faith, which I liked very much. Pray for 
us. Yours, with affection, 

" J. E. E." 

When John had reached the age of twelve 
years, he thought that it w r as his duty to 
make a public profession of his faith in 
Christ. He heard one Sabbath a discourse 
from the pulpit upon this subject, which 
made a deep impression upon his mind. 
He felt that the command of the Saviour, 
" This do in remembrance of me," was ad- 
dressed to him, and that he must obey it. 
Accordingly, he sought the advice of his 
Christian friends, and made the matter a 
subject of frequent and fervent prayer. His 
friends, thinking that he w r as too young to 
make a public profession, did not encourage 
it. They advised him to wait until he was 
older, and had acquired more experience in 
the Christian life. But he thought other- 
wise. Though modest and retiring in his 
disposition, and inclined to pay great defer- 
ence to the opinions of his parents, and 



4U MEMOIR. 

Sabbath School teacher, and others, yet he 
was impressed that it was his duty to ac- 
knowledge Christ before men ; and trusting 
in God he resolved to present himself as a 
candidate for admission to the church. 

In an interview that he had with his 
pastor, the Rev. Mr. Stearns, previous to his 
appearing before the session, the following 
statement and inquiry were presented to 
him : — " John, you have occasion to thank 
God that almost all your near friends are 
Christians — they have longed to see you 
one, and nothing could delight them more 
than to learn that you have determined to 
follow Christ. But suppose the case re- 
versed. Suppose your friends were all ene- 
mies of religion, and even your father and 
mother were disposed to deride you for be- 
coming a Christian, do you think you 
would still adhere to the same determina- 
tion ] " He hung his head, and remained 
silent. It was very evident that a conflict 
was going on in his young bosom, for the 
probe had been inserted just where his heart 
was most sensitive. At length he said, tim- 
idly, " I don't know, I think Christ would 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 1 I 

keep me." u Yes, he would keep you,'' was 
the reply, " and he will keep you in all 
trials, if you continue to trust in him." 

Soon after this interview, an afternoon 
was appointed for candidates for admission 
to the church to appear before the session. 
When the time arrived, a little boy, dressed 
in a short brown jacket, with a white collar 
turned over upon it, might be seen wending 
his way alone to the vestry of the Federal 
Street Church. With a modest yet firm 
step, he goes from his little sanctuary, where 
he has sought divine direction and strength, 
to be examined for admission to the Church 
of Christ. Though no friend is with him, 
angel messengers from the courts above at- 
tend him. The Great Shepherd, who gently 
carries the lambs in his bosom, watches 
over him. The omniscient Being, who knows 
how short will be his career here, directs his 
footsteps, and inclines him thus early to 
seek a union with his visible church. 

Reaching the room, the fair youth enters 
and takes his seat. A slight indication of 
embarrassment appears in his countenance ; 
but the cloud soon passes away. The elders 



12 MEMOIR. 

look upon the lad with some misgivings. 
But on listening to his account of his re- 
ligious experience and hopes, their doubts 
quickly vanish. While they wish to act 
with discretion, they cannot take the re- 
sponsibility of refusing the young applicant 
admission to Christ's fold. Accordingly, 
they vote to receive him, and on the Friday 
evening following, February 12, 1836, he 
made a public profession of his faith in 
Christ, and on the following Sabbath, being 
then twelve years old, partook for the first 
time of the emblems of the Saviour's broken 
body and shed blood. At the same age at 
which his Master was found " in the temple, 
in the midst of the doctors, both hearing 
them and asking them questions," this young 
disciple was found entering his service, and 
putting on the armor for the great battle 
of life. This Sabbath was a precious one 
to our young Christian. He thus refers to 
it in a letter written a few days afterwards : 
" That Sabbath was a delightful day to my 
soul. I feel as if God was very near to me. 
After the benediction was pronounced, and 
I remained in the pew to commune with the 
people of God, I could say from the heart, 



INFANCY AND CHILDHOOD. 43 

1 Why was I made to hear thy voice, 
And enter while there 's room 1 
When thousands make a wretched choice, 
And rather starve than come 1 

1 'Twas the same love, that spread the feast, 
That gently drew us in ; 
Else we had still refused to taste, 
And perished in our sin.' " 

John now felt that he had obtained that 
peace " which passeth all understanding." 
His spirit was at rest. He had long looked 
forward to the time when he should be 
received into the fold of Christ, and his in- 
terests be identified with those of the Re- 
deemer's kingdom. In his letters written at 
this period, he refers to the duties and privi- 
leges connected with his church member- 
ship. " Now," he says, " when the church 
meeting is mentioned, I feel that I can go 
with the people of God and unite my prayers 
with theirs for the-prosperity of Zion." Yes ! 
child of the covenant, heir of the promises, 
and Heaven only knows, eternity only can 
reveal, the power and blessed effects of those 
prayers ! 



CHAPTER II. 

FROM THE TIME OF HIS PROFESSING RELIGION TO 
ENTERING COLLEGE. 1836 - 1840. 

Mr. Emerson had now buckled on his 
armor for the Christian warfare, and his ex- 
treme youth, the gentleness of his spirit, and 
the trials peculiar to one in his circum- 
stances, render his career, from this point, 
one of peculiar interest. His conversion 
bore the most decisive marks of being genu- 
ine and thorough. His heart was sincere, 
his motives pure, and his faith strong. He 
had before him a high standard of piety, 
which he daily struggled to reach. He 
longed for perfection in holiness. He could 
say, " As the hart panteth after the water- 
brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O 
God. My soul thirsteth for God, for the 
living God." 

His desires for usefulness were intense. 



HIS YOUTH. 45 

He labored and prayed for the salvation of 
his relatives and companions, as one who 
realized the infinite value of the soul. In 
going to and from school, he availed himself 
of opportunities to converse with others 
upon religious subjects. His life, also, was 
a constant recommendation of the value and 
excellence of the Christian religion. So 
perfectly consistent was his deportment, so 
kind was he to all, and so free from a vin- 
dictive or revengeful spirit, that his school- 
mates often remarked, although they had 
little confidence in the pretensions of many 
others, they " had no doubt that John Emer- 
son was a Christian." 

But our young hero had his trials, and 
severe ones, too. He was constantly ex- 
posed to the ridicule and opposition of 
thoughtless and vicious boys ; and the bit- 
terness of such assaults, to a tender and sen- 
sitive spirit, can only be fully known by 
experience. In mature age, the ability to 
endure such opposition increases to such an 
extent, as to enable one to regard with indif- 
ference many sources of irritation and pain. 
Then the character is formed, the habits 



46 



MEMOIR. 



fixed, and the purposes have acquired a 
steadfastness which is not easily shakened. 
But here is a youth who is just entering 
upon life. His character is in the process of 
formation. His faculties are just opening, 
under the influences of mental and moral 
culture. His position is peculiar. He sits 
at his desk in the school-room, stands in the 
recitation class, and appears upon the play- 
ground, the only professor of religion in the 
group. His words, his conduct, his spirit, 
are watched more narrowly than those of an 
adult Christian. Even his intimate and be- 
loved associates, in their thoughtless gaiety, 
find it difficult to restrain their boyish jests 
at the expense of his Christian profession. 
Yet the youthful warrior bears it all calmly, 
patiently. Though his sufferings are often 
keen, and his heart ready to burst with in- 
ward grief; though the tear of intense emo- 
tion would start in his eye, yet he would 
guard his tongue, and suppress, as far as 
possible, his feelings. Hurrying from school, 
he hastened to his chamber, and there poured 
out his complaints and supplications before 
God. Here his lacerated feelings were 



JUS YOUTH. 47 

soothed. Here his armor was brightened, and 
his arm nerved for renewed conflicts. 

In a letter to a friend, he thus alludes to 
this subject: 

" Now, dear Sir, I will tell you a little 
about my trials. Trials 1 I should rather 
say, joys ; for they strengthen me in the 
Christian course. They make my belief in 
God's word stronger, for you know it says, 
8 If they have persecuted me, they will per- 
secute you also.' My companions do deride 
me, but I try to look to God for direction 
and strength. I desire, myself, to do good 
to their souls. I feel as though I had a great 
work to do, and I want to be about it. I 
have been reading, lately, the Life of Harlan 
Page. Oh, how much good he did ! I 
think that the Saviour has called me into 
his vineyard to labor, and my question now 
is, c Lord, what wilt thou have me to do % ' 
Pray, my dear friend, for me, that I may 
not be an unprofitable servant. Pray, also, 
that my young companions may be brought 
into Christ's fold, and that God's spirit may 
be poured down, and the whole town become 
converted. 



48 MEMOIR. 

" One of the boys in the class with me in 
the Sabbath school, came to me the other 
night, and said that what the teacher had 
said to him had not been lost upon him. 
He felt that he was a sinner, and must re- 
pent and believe in Christ. I was rejoiced 
to hear him say so. I tried to direct him 
to the Saviour, and urged him not to grieve 
away the Holy Spirit. I hope that he will, 
thus early, be brought into the fold. Do 
pray for him, and for all my young com- 
panions." 

On one occasion, some rude boys stopped 
John in the street, and pressing him into a 
corner, declared that he should not go home 
until he had prayed in their presence. This 
affront he bore with Christian fortitude, 
although he felt keenly the insult. Had he 
followed the promptings of the natural heart, 
he would have resented it. But rather than 
retaliate an injury, he was ready to confer a 
favor upon those who had wronged him. 
He obeyed, literally, the command, " Bless 
them that curse you, do good to them that 
hate you, and pray for them that despitefully 
use you, and persecute you." 



his ytouth. 49 

Several times he was ridiculed for going 
to the communion, and was asked very irrev- 
erent questions respecting the wine-cup and 
the bread. 

Here the writer must take occasion to 
remark, that of all the sins which are com- 
mitted, there are few, in his view, more hei- 
nous, than that of making sport of a person's 
religious feelings, and endeavoring to impede 
or destroy the spiritual growth of a young- 
convert. To hinder a soul that is struggling 
to escape the snares of the adversary ; that 
is striving to overcome its depraved inclina- 
tions ; that is earnestly seeking the light of 
God's truth, and is anxious to avoid the ret- 
ribution of despair; is one of the blackest 
sins on the catalogue of human crime. The 
difficulties, the doubts, the harassing fears, 
that, at best, beset the young disciple, are 
certainly enough, without the superadded 
insolence and cutting sneers of ungodly 
companions. If any, in our highly favored 
communities, are, by their waywardness, 
skepticism, or profligacy, bent upon the ruin 
of their own souls, I pray God that they 
may not be so destitute of all moral sensi- 
5 



50 MEMOIR. 

bility, so lost to the dictates of a common 
humanity, as to labor to drag others with 
them to perdition. 

Had not our young hero received a large 
measure of divine grace, had not the shield 
of his Heavenly Father been over him, and 
holy angels encamped around about him, he 
could not, at so tender an age, and with so 
little experience, have withstood their perse- 
cution. But his fortitude never failed him, 
his Christian patience never forsook him. 
After passing one day through a very trying 
scene, he simply, on reaching home, made this 
mild remark : — " I do not think that men 
would treat each other so, for they have 
more politeness than boys." 

Some of John's schoolmates sympathized 
with him in these trials, and felt that he was 
grievously WTonged. One, a lad older than 
himself, addressed to him the following note 
on the subject : 

"Dear Friend, — The insulting language 
which your classmates use towards you, it 
is probable will soon cease ; — I mean that 
I will do all in my power to prevent it. 
"With J., who is a vile fellow, I can have 



HIS YOUTH. 



51 



no influence. Where I can assist you, I will. 
Bear it as well as you possibly can, and en- 
deavor not to regard it at all. If they think 
it vexes you, they will continue it longer. 
Be of good courage. Although I do not 
think it wise for one so young to join the 
church, (that is for my own part,) yet when 
I can restrain the abuse heaped upon you, I 
will with pleasure. For surely, in this free 
country, each should be allowed to worship 
God as he pleases, and even monarchs can- 
not repress the thoughts of their subjects. 
" Yours, &c. W. F. T. 

"Monday morning, February, 1836." 

To this John sent, the next day, the fol- 
lowing reply : 

" My dear Friend, — Your kind letter I 
received, and read alone, as you requested. 
I thank you for the kindness shown to me. 
I do not intend to mind what they say at 
all. I think they will soon get over it. My 
motive for joining the church w r as this. Per- 
haps you know that I have been thinking on 
the subject of religion for some time past, 
and I thought it was my duty, if I was a 



S2 



MEMOIR. 



Christian, to do all the Saviour commanded; 
and this was one of his commands, ' This 
do in remembrance of me.' I thought that 
it was. my duty to obey it, and now you see 
how they revile me for it. But I will look 
to God for strength. I think it was very 
kind in you to feel for me, and my prayer 
for you is, that you may soon be brought 
into Christ's fold, and be the means of doing 



much good. 



" Yours, in sincerity, 

" John E. Emerson." 



Mr. Emerson was prepared for college in 
the excellent classical High School of his 
native town. Here he made very commend- 
able proficiency in the Latin and Greek, and 
other studies. Having in view, from his 
childhood, the gospel ministry, he prosecuted 
his studies with great diligence, being anx- 
ious to be thoroughly qualified for his great 
work. His teachers testify to his diligence, 
obedience, and strictly consistent conduct 
during his connection with the school. 

While prosecuting his studies with dili- 
gence, John was also very punctual in his 
attendance upon religious meetings. On the 



HIS YOUTH. 



53 



occasion of the annual Church Fast, he at- 
tended a meeting, at which it was the cus- 
tom for the church members to pray in the 
order in which they sat. He had never 
been called upon to pray in public, and he 
was greatly perplexed to know what he 
ought to do. His modesty inclined him to 
retain his seat, and not attempt to lead the 
devotions of the assembly, and yet he did 
not wish to shrink from his duty in the 
case. As his turn to pray was drawing 
near, and he was revolving in his mind what 
he should do, he suddenly thought of the 
children of Israel, as they were about to 
pass the river Jordan, on entering the pro- 
mised land. He remembered that the waters 
did not divide until their feet touched the 
edge of the stream ; and he felt confident that 
the same God who opened a passage for 
them, after they had moved forward in obe- 
dience to his command, would give him 
strength at the moment when the duty 
should devolve upon him. Nor was his 
confidence misplaced. He arose and offered 
a simple, fervent prayer, which was listened 
to with breathless attention. It was evident 
5* 



54 



MEMOIR. 



to all that this, for him, was no unusual 
exercise. He pleaded as one who had influ- 
ence at the throne of grace — one who had 
faith in the efficacy of prayer. 

His time was so much occupied, that he 
could not write with much regularity in his 
journal. We make the following extracts : 

" Sabbath, May 8. I have been thinking 
this morning, what I could do for the ad- 
vancement of Christ's cause in the world, 
and one way in which I thought that I 
might be useful was by setting a holy exam- 
ple ■ — not countenancing any sin, and by 
appearing cheerful without being too light 
or gay, I will make a beginning to-day, 
and will go to God for strength, and will 
ask his blessing upon the effort. 

"Tuesday. Tried to talk with my play- 
mate, J. S., and to lead him to the Lamb of 
God that taketh away the sins of the world. 
I hope he is a child of God. Have written 
a letter to-day to W. and J. P., who belong 
to our Sabbath School class, and who expect 
to leave town soon. I hope that they may 
get good from it. 

" Saturday. Have been reading to-day in 



HTS YOUTH. 55 

the life of Harlan Page. What a pious, 
devoted man he was ! O that I might be as 
useful — that I might do something to ad- 
vance the kingdom of Christ ! 

"Sabbath. I fear there have been too 
many worldly thoughts in my mind to-day. 
May God forgive me, and enable me to think 
more of him and of his blessed cause. 

" Friday, May 27, 1836. Through the 
goodness of my Heavenly Father I am 
brought here again, after an absence of a 
week. My mind, while I have been gone, 
has been too much taken up with the vani- 
ties of the world, and I fear my prayers 
have been too cold and too short. The 
objects that I have seen have distracted my 
attention, and lead me away from heavenly 
things. May God forgive me, and may I 
live henceforth more to his glory. 

" Saturday, June 4. I feel as if I could 
say, in sincerity, 

* Come Holy Spirit, heavenly dove, 
With all thy quickening powers.' 

" I long to have my heart warmed — long 
to be quickened in the divine life. I am 



56 



MEMOIR. 



too liable to wander, and grow cold, and 
forget the great work to which my God calls 
me. 

At the beginning of the year 1838, Mr. 
Emerson prayed earnestly for a revival of 
religion. It occasioned him the deepest sor- 
row to see his companions and friends living 
in sin and exposed to the wrath of God. In 
February there were tokens of the divine 
presence, and ere long the spirit of God was 
poured out, and souls were converted. In 
April John wrote to a friend an account of 
the revival, as follows : 

" Newburyport, April 6 ; 1838. 

" Dear Friend, — It being some time since 
I have written to you, I thought I would 
take up my pen to address you a few lines. 
There has been a gracious outpouring of the 
Spirit in this town, and sinners have been 
converted, and God's people have been 
awakened. I feel that my own soul has 
been quickened, for I had, previous to that 
time, been cold and dead, and had got far 
away from God. But I trust the Spirit of 
the Lord has awakened me anew to my 
duty, and that I have a desire to labor in 



HIS YOUTH. 57 

his vineyard, and to do more for him than 1 
have done before. Pray for me, my dear 
Sir, that God would keep me in his way, and 
enable me to do his will. The work has been 
principally confined to the young, especially 
to young men, from the ages of sixteen to 
twenty. They appear very much engaged 
indeed. I wish you could look into our 
meetings here, in the morning at half past 
five, and see the young men conduct them. 
I think you would feel your own soul quick- 
ened. There is quite a waking up among the 
boys, for at a meeting last evening, at our 
house, there were eighteen or nineteen pres- 
ent. Your brother, Mr. John T., was present, 
and spoke with us a few evenings ago. I 
should like it very much if you could be here 
and meet with us. Pray for us and for this 
whole town, that the Lord would carry on 
his work. The Methodists have lately had 
a protracted meeting here, which has been 
much blessed. 

" April Tth. I have now returned from 
our morning meeting. It has been very 
interesting. They pray without being called 
on, and the spirit of the Lord is evidently 



58 MEMOIR. 

present among us. There are about one 
hundred who attend now, and there is also 
another meeting in another part of the town. 
Mr. Johnson, from Boston, was present with 
us this morning, and gave us some account 
of the state of religion there, which was 
very interesting. It was our union meeting 
of churches last evening, which was quite 
interesting. There was also a meeting in 
another place for any one to attend, especi- 
ally the baptized children. It was judged 
there were about one hundred and fifty chil- 
dren present. It was stated at the church 
meeting last evening, that about two months 
ago, it was thought the Spirit had begun 
to work, because two were interested. The 
next month there were nearly one hundred 
inquirers, and last night they spoke of twenty 
that had hopefully experienced religion." 

In May, 1338, John resumed his journal, 
and wrote as follows : 

" May 2d. I am now reading a book 
entitled ' The Hidden Life of a Christian,' 
written by Mrs. Tucker. It is a delightful 
work, holiness seems to breathe through her 
writings. She seems to love her closet 



HIS YOUTH. 



59 



devotions very much. How much I need 

an increase 'of holiness, and the quickening 
influences of the Holy Spirit! Oh that I 
might receive a fresh baptism from on 
high. 

" May 3d. I have received the news to- 
day of the death of a young lady in town, 
about seventeen years of age. She was sick 
but a short time, and was deprived of her 
reason previous to her departure. But I 
trust she has gone to that land where ' the 
wicked cease from troubling, and the weary 
are at rest.' O that this event might sol- 
emnize our minds, and lead us all to be 
ready for the coming of the Son of man. 

" May 6th. Another Sabbath has dawned. 
May it be indeed a sweet Sabbath of rest to 
my soul. May all distracting cares be left 
behind, while I go up to worship in God's 
holy temple ; and may it be a sweet prelude 
to that eternal Sabbath of rest beyond the 
skies. 

" During the past week a terrible accident 
has happened — the blowing up of a steam- 
boat, by which over one hundred persons 
almost without a moment's warning, were 



60 MEMOIR. 

hurried into eternity. How it becomes us 
to watch, and be ready for the summons to 
depart. We know not how soon we shall 
be called to render up our final account. 

"This afternoon a sermon was preached 
on the occasion of the death of the young 
lady mentioned on the 3d. It was very 
solemn and impressive. The minister spoke 
to the younger members of the church, of 
which she was one, and asked them if they 
were faithful and prepared to meet God in 
peace. I pray that I may be enabled to look 
into my own heart, and see how I stand with 
my God. — ' Search me, O God, and know 
my heart ; try me, and know my thoughts ; 
and see if there be any wicked way in me, 
and lead me in the way everlasting.' 

" 1th. Began yesterday ' The Christian 
Father's Present to his Children,' by Mr. 
James, and ' Young Christian,' by Abbott ; 
both of them very good books. May I be 
enabled to profit much by them. 

"12th. Have been reading a chapter in 
' Father's Present,' &c. on decision in reli- 
gion, and I think I need more of it. I think 
I am more afraid of the scoffs and sneers of 



HIS YOUTH. 



61 



the world, than I ought to be. Lord ! give 
me decision and strength to say No to wick- 
edness. 

" 13th. Another blessed Sabbath has 
dawned upon us. I have attended meeting 
this forenoon, and heard a discourse on Psalm 
xix. 13: 'Cleanse thou me from secret 
faults.' The minister attempted to show 
some of our secret faults. He said: Sup- 
posing an angel from heaven should come in 
and write on the wall the thoughts of all 
present, how ashamed we should be. I 
think all are guilty in this, and that we all 
have a great many impure and wicked 
thoughts, which we would not let even our 
most bosom friends know ; still they are all 
known to a holy God. His eye is ever upon 
us all. This afternoon heard a very solemn 
discourse on the character of the traitor Ju- 
das. It was a powerful appeal to our church. 
The minister said, There are Judases now, 
and probably there were some there. O that 
we might be enabled to look into our own 
hearts, and ask, Lord ! Is i 1 1 \ Is it I % 

" IQth. I have set apart this day as a day 
of special prayer to God for an increase of 
6 



62 



WE MO IK. 



holiness, and for more of the influences of 
the Holy Spirit, which I greatly need. O 
that I might be enabled to ask in faith. On 
this day also the mothers hold their monthly 
meeting to pray for their children. 

" 20th. It is again the sweet and peace- 
ful Sabbath. O that it might be a foretaste 
of the eternal Sabbath of rest. We love 
these earthly Sabbaths, but ' what a Sabbath 
shall we keep when we shall rest above.' 
Yet how little do we think of it ; and how 
engrossed are our minds in the world. 
' Lord ! take off our affections from earth.' 

"21th. Another Sabbath has returned. 
Have I done any thing for God the past 
week ] Have I done any thing to save 
souls? Have I advanced any in holiness? 
I fear I have done very little. O Lord ! 
waken up this stupid heart to feel more and 
love more. 

" September 21th. To-day completes my 
fifteenth year — fifteen years old! O my 
soul, look back upon the past, and see how 
it has been spent. How little have I done 
for the cause of Christ. How little have I 
done in any good thing ! Therefore, for my 



HIS YOUTH. 63 

own good, as well as for the cause of Christ, 
Resolved^ 1st, To rise early in the morning. 

" 2cl. To have my time of prayer before 
breakfast as often as I can. 

" 4th. To strive to set an holy example at 
school, and before the world. 

"5th. To attend as regularly as I can, on 
the monthly and week-day meetings of our 
church. 

" 6th. To read, more than I have done, 
the lives of good and holy men. 

" 7th. To feel and pray more fervently, 
for the conversion of impenitent sinners. 

" 8th. To be more kind and obliging to 
my younger brother. 

" 9th, To read and study ancient history 
more. 

" 10th. To cultivate more love for study. 

" 11th. To have my time of evening pray- 
er as soon as possible after supper. 

" 12th. To try to do the things about 
house more cheerfully. 

" 13th. To talk more on the subject of 
religion. 

65 14th. To strive to do more for God's 
glory. 



1)1 



MEMOIR. 



" 15 tli. To try in God's strength to keep 
these resolutions, so that if I am permitted 
to live to see my sixteenth birthday, it may 
find me more ensra^ed for God and his cause 
than this birthday has." 

Mr. Emerson was now fast ripening as a 
Christian. We have looked at his trials, 
and witnessed their effects upon his life and 
character. We should not overlook the ad- 
vantages he enjoyed for spiritual culture. 
He was blessed with devotedly pious pa- 
rents, who did all in their power to encour- 
age and strengthen him in the divine life. 
Though he had severe trials abroad, yet in 
his pleasant home he found all the fruits of 
the Spirit, love, joy, peace. 

A friend who resided in the family, and 
to whom John was ardently attached, took 
the deepest interest in his welfare. Her 
prayers, counsels and sympathies, he valued 
very highly. When he was quite young, 
she was in the habit, as well as his parents, 
of retiring with him for social prayer, and 
these seasons were very refreshing to his 
soul. He referred to them in conversation 
with his mother on his dying bed, and said, 



HIS YOUTH. 66 

" Did we not have sweet communion to- 
gether with God ? " 

The religious community by which Mr. 
Emerson was surrounded, was of a charac- 
ter eminently calculated to deepen and 
strengthen his piety. Through the influ- 
ence of maternal associations, female prayer 
meetings, and other religious privileges, 
Christian mothers strove to qualify them- 
selves to discharge faithfully their duties to 
their children. Under a deep sense of their 
responsibility, they sought divine direction, 
took counsel one of another, and labored to 
train up their offspring in " the nurture and 
admonition of the Lord." As the fruits of 
their toil, large numbers of their children 
have been brought into the church, and have 
occupied and still occupy posts of useful- 
ness.* 

The churches, too, of Newburyport have 
been long distinguished for their vigorous 
piety, sound doctrine, and wide-spread in- 
fluence. Nor can we fail to observe in these 
features, the salutary effects of a talented 

* See Appendix A, for a list of clergymen, natives of 
Newburyport. 
6* 



66 MEMOIR. 

and devoted ministry, continued through a 
long series of years. Among the older cler- 
gymen, we might mention the names of the 
venerable and Rev. Daniel Dana, D. D., — 
the able and eminently devoted Dr. Dim- 
mick, who ministers to a large and interest- 
ing society, — and the Rev. Dr. Withington, 
who, in addition to superior talents and 
acquisitions, has a heart that beats in sym- 
pathy with every form of human suffering. 

The earliest religious associations of the 
writer are connected with Dr. Dana, who 
was formerly pastor of the first Presbyterian 
church, with which Mr. Emerson's parents 
were connected. The faithful labors, de- 
voted piety, and uniform courtesy of this 
aged servant of God, have exerted not only 
a beneficial influence upon the people of 
his charge, but also upon the whole town. 
Though he is now too far advanced to bear 
the burden of a parochial charge, yet he is 
always ready to meet tlie calls of Providence 
to preach the gospel, and to give counsel 
to his younger brethren who seek his ad- 
vice. Enjoying as he does the esteem and 
affection of the whole community ; associ- 



HIS YOUTH. G7 

ated so intimately with the religious history 
and character of the town, and with the last 
hours and burial of so many of its citizens, 
his own departure will cause universal re- 
gret, and many tears will be shed when he 
shall be called to another world by the great 
Master whom he has so faithfully served in 
this. 

Under the direct and indirect influence 
of such piety, was the character of young 
Emerson moulded. Such were the genial 
influences that nourished his faith, stimu- 
lated his hopes, and strengthened him for 
the duties and conflicts of life. 



CHAPTER III. 

HIS RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE, 1840-1844. 

In September, 1810, Mr. Emerson left his 
pleasant home to become a member of Am- 
herst College. Possessing such filial affec- 
tion, and depending so much upon his 
Christian friends, for counsel, encourage- 
ment, and religious communion, it was hard 
to sunder, even for a few months, the ties 
that bound him so closely to them. In 
bidding them farewell, his hearty grasp 
indicated the depth of his love, and the 
moistened eye and tremulous voice showed 
the conflicting emotions that were agitating 
his young heart. He was aware that new 
trials and untried dangers awaited him, and 
while on his journey he offered up his silent 
petitions to God to give him strength to 
discharge the duties, and meet the perils 
that were before him. 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 00 

Having passed a satisfactory examination, 
he was admitted a member of Amherst Col- 
lego, September 23, 18^0, being at the time 
seventeen years of age. His letters and 
journal indicate his earnest desire to prose- 
cute his studies with diligence, and improve 
to the utmost his time and advantages. 
Above all, his great desire was to make 
progress in the divine life, and be of service 
in the cause of his Divine Master. From 
his letters w r e make the following extracts. 

81 1 make it a point to keep close to my 
room, visit very little, and try to perform 
faithfully every college duty. I have the 
consciousness of having tried to do well on 
mathematics, even if I have not been suc- 
cessful. I have been but once absent from 
an exercise, and was then unavoidably de- 
tained. Mrs. S., I suppose, can give you all 
the information besides this, as she has seen 
me every day, been to my room, &c. Above 
all, I try not to forget my duty to my God, 
and the glory that is due to his name for 
having (as I trust) snatched me from an 
horrible pit when my steps had well nigh 
slipped ; and I feel at times as if he did 



70 



MEMOIR. 



reveal himself to me as a prayer-hearing 
God." 

" Have just returned from our usual Sun- 
day noon exercise of prayer. I think of 
you now as assembled in that consecrated 
spot, where we used to meet and pour out 
our united supplications to our common God 
and Father. Doubtless you have been pray- 
ing for me, who am far away from home. 
How sweet to think that we can pray to the 
same covenant-keeping God for blessings on 
each other. Shall we meet again in that 
consecrated spot] is a question of deep and 
thrilling interest. God in his infinite mercy 
grant we may ; but if not, O that we may 
all, by his grace, be prepared to join that 
innumerable company, that blood-bought 
throng, the general assemblv and church 
of the first-born, whose names are written in 
heaven. I feel animated to dav with iov to 
see a different state of things among some 
of the Christians in college. I record it 
with joy and trembling, — joy, because it 
seems like an indication of the outpouring 
of the Spirit ; trembling, for fear it may 
prove like the morning cloud and early 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 71 

dew, which soon passeth away. Several 
prayer meetings have been established, — 
some of the brethren seem to manifest a 
deep anxiety for the salvation of souls. 
Pray for ns, that the Spirit may not pass 
ns by ; that now, while there exists a tender 
state of feeling, the windows of heaven may 
be opened, and a blessing descend. Pray 
much for me, that I may not have mere 
animal excitement, but a baptism of the 
Holy Ghost ; that I may ever remember my 
high and holy calling, and keep near to God. 
O for more of the Spirit, for more conform- 
ity to him. There is need of watchfulness 
and prayer, lest I be entrapped in the wiles 
and snares of the enemy of souls. Pray 
unceasingly, that I may be kept from the 
temptations of a college life." 

Mr. Emerson was exceedingly attached to 
his Sabbath School Teacher, Mr. Charles 
Morse, and wrote to him frequently, in the 
most affectionate manner. The following 
was addressed to him after a severe sick- 
ness : 

" The Lord has been laying his rod heav- 
ily upon you ; but doubtless you are ever 



MEMOIR. 



ready to say, ' Let him do what seemetli him 
good.' I .have sympathized with you, my 
dear brother, in your pains and sufferings, 
and gladly, O how gladly, would I have 
flown to your bedside to minister to your 
wants, and, if possible, to soothe your pains; 
but that privilege was denied me, and I 
could only bear you on my heart in suppli- 
cation at the throne of grace. God has been 
better to me than my fears, and has raised 
you up, I trust, to be an instrument of great 
and extensive usefulness in the world. To 
me you have been, as it were, a spiritual 
father. Your kind admonitions, counsels, 
warnings, and anxiety for my welfare, can 
never be effaced from my memory. Your 
unwearied efforts for my good, your desires 
for my growth in grace, your tender and 
watchful solicitude lest I should go astray, 
your affectionate farewell the night before I 
left for college, cannot soon be forgotten, and 
will endear me to you by a thousand ties. 

" I suppose you w T ill be interested to know 
something of the state of my feelings during 
the past winter. I cannot say that I have 
been visited with any special manifestations 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 73 

of the Divine Spirit, but still I have at times 
an inward longing to be made more and 
more like my Redeemer. I have to lament 
Over my own sin and folly, and departure 
from Christ. O, how cold have I been in 
his sen ice ! how little have I done for him ! 
At times I hardly know whether I am a 
child of his or not. 

' If I love, why am I thus, 
Why this cold and lifeless frame.' 

" I can truly say, ' O, that I were as in 
months past,' for I do believe, my dear 
Christian brother, that I have seen times in 
years gone by when I drew very near to 
God, and held sweet communion with 
him, in prayer and praise. I trust those 
happy days, those ' golden hours,' have not 
forever lied. Pray for me, that I may not 
halt in the ' race that is set before me/ I 
trust you are dwelling near the throne, and 
drinking deeply at the fountain head. Write 
to me, my dear brother, some of your own 
experience. It would be very gratifying to 
me at all times to receive counsel and direc- 
tion from you in the Christian course. We 
have been much together, and you well 
know r how to advise." 
7 



74 MEMOIR. 

While Mr. Emerson was prosecuting with 
faithfulness his studies, and gaining every 
day the confidence of his teachers and the 
affection of his classmates, his soul burned 
with longings for a revival of religion. Un- 
der date of January 7th, 1841, he wrote 
thus to his mother : 

"Dear Mother, — I have just returned 
from our usual Thursday evening lecture, 
which has for this week been postponed 
until this evening. We had a minister here 
to preach, who, I believe, is from Deerfield. 
Chum and I have just been speaking about 
the prospects of a revival here at this time. 
He says, Mrs. F. remarked that the revi- 
vals which have occurred here have taken 
place during this term, and something rather 
singular occurred to-night. Two of the 
most hardened students, apparently, in col- 
lege, came in to the lecture this evening. 
For what purpose I cannot tell. May it not 
possibly be an indication for good. May it 
not be that God is about to pour out his 
Spirit on Amherst College ? O, continue to 
pray for us. That you do pray for us, I do 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 75 

not doubt ; but continue, continue to pray. 
The last Thursday in February will doubt- 
less be an interesting season to you this 
year, if you are spared to see it. O, that 
Amherst College might be especially re- 
membered. I wish I felt more for it myself. 
But, alas, I feel that I must begin at home. 
I find that my ow T n garden needs culture 
before I can undertake for others. How far 
have I lived from duty and God ! How un- 
holy an example have I set ! I feel that I 
need to be awakened. Christians here need 
a revival as well as sinners. There seems to 
be a kind of lethargic stupor among them 
upon the great and all-important subject of 
religion. They do not seem to be engaged in 
carrying forward the cause of the blessed Re- 
deemer. But what wonders would a revival 
work upon the hearts of all ! May each one 
be enabled to say with the Psalmist David, 
6 Search me, O God, and know my heart; 
try me, and know my thoughts, and see if 
there be any wicked way in me, and lead me 
in the way everlasting.' " 

" Sunday Noon. We have had a very sol- 
emn and impressive discourse this forenoon, 



7G MEMOIR. 

from President Humphrey, on the parable of 
the unprofitable fig-tree. The house was quite 
still, and the audience seemed to be attentive. 
O, that it might prove to be a clay of con- 
version to God, to many souls-! He spoke 
very solemnly, also, to professors of religion. 
; Three years have I come and sought fruit 
on this my vine. Cut it down. Why cum- 
bereth it the ground \ ' May we all hear the 
warning voice, and be enabled this year to 
bring forth much fruit to the honor of our 
Redeemer's name. I think I have great 
reason to bless my Heavenly Father for the 
many distinguishing mercies he has shown 
towards me, in placing me in this seminary 
of learning, in continuing me here a term, 
in permitting me to see my friends in peace 
and safety, and returning me to this place 
again in health. How many mercies have 
I to thank the Lord for. Truly, my cup 
overfloweth with blessings. Yet how cold 
and stupid I remain. Do pray that I may 
be quickened in duty, that I may have more 
faith, more of the influences of the Holy 
Spirit, that I may live nearer to Christ, 
be less conformed to the fashion of this 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 77 

world, and that I may be enabled to do 
some good, even in this place, and advance 
in useful knowledge and in the path to the 
heavenly Canaan. I have reason to regretthat 
since I came into Christ's visible church, I 
have done so little for him who hath done 
so much for me, that I have set so unholy 
an example and lived so unprofitably." 

During the middle of his second year in 
college, his prayers and those of God's peo- 
ple were answered by a precious outpouring 
of the Holy Spirit. An account of the work 
and the state of Mr. Emerson's feelings, may 
be gathered from the following letters : 

" I was very much surprised and delighted 
last Saturday evening, at receiving a large 
folio sheet filled with interesting intelligence 
from home. I hardly knew how to begin, I 
was so overjoyed. I ran into the next room, 
the first thing, to show the letter and to 
have my friends rejoice with me. The con- 
tents were of the most pleasing kind. To 
hear that you were having an outpouring of 
the Spirit, was truly refreshing. My own 

soul seemed to be revived. Before I re- 

7* 



7S MEMOIR. 

ceived your letter, I trust that I had a 
fresh visitation of the Spirit from on high. 
Dr. Humphrey appointed a meeting that eve- 
ning — a general meeting — and invited 
such as had accounts of revivals from other 
places to rise and state them. Many rose. 
I felt as if it was my duty to rise and speak, 
but it was a great cross. There was an im- 
penitent person in the room, before whom I 
felt as if I dared not speak. Conscience 
whispered that this was the cross, and I 
must not go round it ; and almost before I 
was aware, I was upon my feet, giving an 
account of the revival in Newburyport. I 
felt that I had done my duty, and it gave 
me a new impulse to go forward in my 
Christian course. During this week I have 
been in a different state of mind. Commu- 
nion in the closet and religious duty has 
been sweet, and I think I have found a near 
access to my heavenly Father; and now what 
I want is firm faith, and grace to persevere 
even unto the end. There is nothing, to 
me, like taking a decided stand in religion. 
I have thoroughly proved that. I have 
found it so, in my refusal to attend that con- 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 79 

vivial entertainment last term, which I told 
you of when at home. That was the touch- 
stone with those students to try the firmness 
of my principles, and now they shun me, 
and do not dare to invite me to partake of 
their festivities. Every new cross I take up, 
every self-denial I make for my Lord and 
Master, gives me a new impulse, a new spur 
in nly Christian course. I think 1 am now 
striving daily to guard against my easily be- 
setting sins, and though I fall into them 
heedlessly now and then, I try not to be dis- 
couraged, but make a new trial, and look 
to Heaven for strength and support." 

" May 9, 1842. The students having most 
of them gone home, of course we cannot 
expect any thing of particular interest at 
present. Having been left alone some of 
the time, I have been able to devote a part 
of it to reflection and religious meditation. 
I carried myself back to-day in imagination 
to the times when I first felt that I had an 
interest in the atoning blood of Christ, and 
when I was led to make a profession of my 
faith in Christ, and compared them with my 
present state of feeling, and I could but ex- 



so 



MEMOIR. 



claim, ' Where is the blessedness I knew 
when first I saw the Lord ] ' I believe, 
dear mother, if ever I had trne love for 
the Saviour, it was then; if ever I did 
any thing from a true desire of fulfilling all 
the will of God, that it was when I entered 
into a solemn public engagement with him 
to be forever his. Those were days when I 
felt genuine love to God burning in my 
heart, and when I believe I could truly say, 
' I am my Lord's and he is mine,' when ' I 
sat under his shadow with great delight and 
his fruit w r as sweet to my taste, when he 
brought me into his banqueting house and 
his banner over me was love.' Though 
now, I trust, I have an interest in the aton- 
ing blood of the Redeemer, and have been 
w 7 ashed and sanctified, yet I do not have 
those holy exercises of mind, those sweet 
foretastes of Heaven, those clear evidences of 
eternal salvation, which I formerly had ; that 
strict conscientious uprightness I am also 
wanting in, which I formerly possessed. I 
thank you heartily for the good and whole- 
some advice which you gave me in your last 
letter. O, that I may indeed be an uncom- 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 81 

mon Christian, a 'living witness' for God. 
Though wo, as yet, have no revival here, we 
are still waiting for the blessing. You have 
Heard of the very powerful revival of reli- 
gion in Williams College. The feeling was 
so great that some of the exercises were 
suspended. When shall we witness such 
an outpouring of the Spirit here ? " 

In June, the shower which had been so 
long anticipated, descended. 

"Amherst College, June 16, 1842. 

" Dear Mother — In view of the existing 
state of things in this institution, I can no 
longer refrain from addressing you a letter, 
in order that your soul as well as mine may 
be refreshed by the glorious tidings. The 
Lord in deed and in truth, is pouring out 
his Spirit upon our beloved college. A 
cheering revival of religion is in progress. 
After long years of drought and spirit- 
ual death, Almighty God, in his bound- 
less and infinite mercy, has seen fit to re- 
fresh this part of his thirsty Zion with a 
show r er of divine grace. And ' Not unto us, 
O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name, 
give glory.' I attempted in a former letter 



S2 



MEMOIR. 



to give you a brief account of its commence- 
ment, and of the then increasing interest 
among us. I will now give you some par- 
ticulars with regard to its farther progress, 
and of its w r onderful and soul-cheering ef- 
fects. And O, my beloved mother, if the 
only fruit of this blessed revival has been 
the return of your own wandering, sinful, 
prodigal son to his Father and his God, 
would there not be joy among the angels in 
Heaven? and joy, praise and thanksgiving 
in (at least) one heart on earth on this ac- 
count? But God, in his infinite loving- 
kindness, has not stopped here. He has 
brought back, as we humbly trust,' most of 
his erring, backsliding children in this insti- 
tution to himself. The 'new song' has 
been put into the mouths of many of those 
who but a short time since were the bitterest 
' enemies of the cross of Christ,' and whose 
tongues were filled with curses and revilings. 
He has also stopped the mouths of those 
who were the opposers of revivals of reli- 
gion in our colleges, on account of their 
occurring so periodically, (such revivals hav- 
ing usually taken place in the spring term 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 83 

in the months of March and April,) by 
granting us a gracious outpouring of his 
Holy Spirit in the summer term, an unusual 
and unexpected time, and a time, too, when 
all were busily engaged ; the Seniors in pre- 
paring for Commencement, and the other 
classes for our regular summer exhibition. 
He has taken not only those who were not 
thus engaged, but some of those who were 
most busily employed, and made them tro- 
phies of divine grace. There has been no 
very particular excitement, no remarkably 
unusual stir, no suspension of studies or 
omission of college exercises. Though we 
have meetings every day and evening, filled 
to overflowing, and the most profound at- 
tention paid to the preaching of the word, 
and many (as we have reason to hope,) are 
thereby convicted of their sins and guilt, 
and led to seek refuge in the ark of safety, 
yet it is for the most part in the private 
room and in the closet, that we hear the 
stifled sobs of the convicted, and the fervent 
thanksgivings of the redeemed. One by one 
are they led to seek for pardon and salvation 
by means of 'the great atonement,' and 



81 MEMOIR. 

week by week do we hear of fresh accessions 
to the ranks of the Redeemer s chosen ones. 
Two weeks ago to-morrow the Christians in 
this institution held a day of fasting and 
prayer. It was not noised abroad. It w 7 as 
not publicly announced from the pulpit, 
but each Christian came (by individual in- 
vitation) into a meeting the night before, 
and we were there earnestly exhorted to 
humble ourselves before God on the coming 
day, and to entreat him to continue the in- 
fluences of his Spirit among us. Private 
prayer and humiliation in the closet were 
chiefly recommended. We, however, met 
from the hour of twelve till two (at noon) 
in my room, for the purpose of social prayer. 
The room was filled, and the spirit of God 
was shed down upon us. We met also at 
five o'clock in another room, and invited in 
the impenitent. It was a solemn time. 

The next day occurred the celebration of 
the Lord's Supper, and it w r as a precious sea- 
son to many souls. It was during this and 
the succeeding weeks that God began to 
make more signal displays of his love and 
mercy. Before this, quite a number in the 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 85 

Freshman class had been anxiously inquir- 
ing the way of salvation, and some few 
had indulged a trembling hope. But the 
work now began to spread into the other 
classes. The members of our own class 
met frequently to pray for our impeni- 
tent brethren. There were three, however, 
in the class, who were so hardened in ini- 
quity, that though we committed them to 
our God in prayer, still it seemed as if w r e 
could not have faith to believe that they 
would be brought into the kingdom. But 
O, how w r eak and vain is man. The first 
member of our class that was brought under 
conviction was one of these three. His at- 
tention was arrested by a sermon that was 
preached on Sabbath evening. The next 
case of conversion, in our class, w r as another 
of these three, and it w r as a most striking 
and w r onderful conversion. Its subject was 
a most hardened rebel, one whose mouth 
had been ' filled with cursing and bitter- 
ness,' one who drank to intoxication, and, 
in fact, one who was considered as being 
sunk as low in every species of vice and pro- 
fanity as any person in college. He had 
8 



86 



MEMOIR. 



been so vile, that not a person had dared to 
even ask him into a religious meeting. And 
it was from this fact, that he, by the power- 
ful aid of the Spirit of God, was led to look 
upon his lost and ruined condition as a sin- 
ner, and to cry to God for mercy. He was 
sitting in his room alone a week ago to- 
night, and as he sat, he began to think of 
the revival which was in progress in college, 
and why it was that, when every member of 
the class had been conversed with on the 
subject of religion, and urged to immediate 
repentance, he had been passed by. This 
led him to reflect on his past course, and as 
he reflected, the truth was powerfully set 
home to his heart. The following day he 
strove, by plunging into vice, to drive away 
his impressions, but could not succeed. Sun- 
day he went in deep distress to Prof. T., and 
told him of his situation. All day Monday 
he was under deep conviction, and Monday 
evening he was led to give himself wholly 
up into the hands of his Redeemer. 

But I cannot enumerate individual cases. 
They are too many and too striking. All 
the Junior class, except three, are indulging 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. s 7 

hope in Christ, and one of those three is 
under deep conviction. The Lord is doing 
indeed a mighty work. Our most open 
opposers have been brought to bow to the 
Saviour. In one entry, where they boasted 
that a prayer meeting could not be held, all 
but four are indulging hope. One of those 
(a most hardened wretch heretofore,) is un- 
der deep impressions, and another is out of 
town. I have only room to add — Pray, 
pray abundantly for us. We want to see 
all in this college brought in." 

" Amherst, July 15, 1842. 

" Dear Mother, — If your absent son was 
conversing with you face to face, w r ould not 
your two first interrogatories be, ' Is your 
health good ? ' and ' Are you yet continuing 
strong in the Lord] ' To the first I would 
say, ' Yes,' and to the second I would reply 
(humbly, I hope,) ' I trust I am.' My 
dear mother, the only evidence that I get 
of a change in my feelings, is, that from 
day to day I find a nearness to God and 
a devotion to his cause, which I had not 
felt in weeks and months past. And 



MEMOIR. 



though I am still carnal, though I have 
still within me an 'evil heart of unbe- 
lief,' which prompts me to neglect duty, 
and to go into the by-paths of sin and 
folly, yet I trust I am in a manner enabled 
to resist temptation, and to come off victo- 
rious over some of my adversaries. I find 
that it must be by constant prayer, con- 
stant watching, constant effort, by living 
near to God, and keeping eternal things 
in view, that I can continue in this frame of 
mind, and pursue a Christian course. When 
I am led aw x ay into temptation, (as I some- 
times am,) I do not feel as I did before, 
like giving up all for lost and returning 
again to my former courses, but I find I am 
enabled to go to God with some degree of 
penitence for my sin, and in my closet mourn 
over it, and there seek strength and guidance 
for the future. But O, we shall never be 
freed from this load of guilt and sin which 
is weighing us down, till we rest in heaven. 
I try from day to day to think of death, and 
of the manner in which I should wish to 
live, did I know that death was at the door. 
But I find that 'in many things I offend, 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 89 

and in all I come short: I find every now 
and then some sin un thought of before, 
which I have been committing ; some ave- 
nue of guilt into which I have been stray- 
ing, though it was unheeded by me before. 
Thus I perceive that I can never lay my 
armor down on earth, but must continue 
to ' fight the good fight.' Perhaps this has 
been my fault heretofore. I have been 
striving after perfection, and when I found 
that I did not reach it, have felt like giving 
up the contest and dropping my armor. 
But perfection cannot be attained in this 
life, and ' we must fight if we would reign.' 
An increasing love for the closet I feel as if 
I now possessed, When I can get alone by 
myself, and pour out my soul in prayer to 
God, and feel the influences of the Holy 
Spirit resting upon me, I believe it is one of 
the sweetest seasons I enjoy on earth. You 
know that I date my first decline in religion 
from a neglect of those seasons. God grant 
that it may never be so again. I may not 
feel the neglect at first. I think I did not 
then. But it does have a silent influence, 
and its dreadful effects will sooner or later 



90 



MEMOIR. 



be felt through the whole Christian system, 
for ' prayer is the Christian's vital breath, 
the Christian's native air.' I am striving to 
conform my life more and more to the pat- 
tern which my Lord and Master has set me, 
and to be ' a burning and a shining light.' 

" My Bible, I think, I relish much more 
than formerly. I am now reading it in 
course — began with Romans and have got 
to Hebrews. Some of Paul's charges to 
Timothy, to Christians, to backsliders, &c, 
I find very useful to myself at this time. An 
increasing taste for ' good books,' also, - 1 
think I possess. I am in the habit of read- 
ing every day one sermon of that devoted 
and pious man, W. B. Homer. Have you 
read his memoir ? If not, I think you and 
Eliza would be greatly interested in it.. I 
hope to read to you some in it when I get 
home. 

" I have nothing particularly new to write 
concerning the religious interest in col- 
lege. I believe there have no new conver- 
sions taken place since I wrote you last. 
Though the interest manifested is not so 
deep as it was a few weeks since, yet there 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 91 

is still a good attendance upon our meetings 
and much of the spirit of prayer. We have 
a prayer-meeting every day, either at half- 
past one or five P. M., which is generally 
well attended. Preaching three or four 
evenings in a week. Those who have in- 
dulged hope, all continue to appear well. 
This is very cheering. I long to see you, 
that I may tell you more particularly 
about them, than I can on paper. I long to 
be at some of your evening meetings. Is 
there a good attendance ? Do the Monday 
evening church prayer-meetings continue 1 
I wish old Mrs. Beck's prophetic revival 
might occur while I am at home. I think 
I anticipate more religious enjoyment this 
vacation than I have at any other. Our 
Sunday noon prayer-meetings in the cham- 
ber, I think much of. I pray for you at 
such seasons individually, and I pray for 
the church. 

" Sometimes I think, dear mother, that 
my course for a few months past is to 
be blessed to both of us. Perhaps you 
were thinking too much of my being such 
a Christian as J. B. Taylor was, while in 



92 MEMOIR. 

college, and God has disappointed you. 
Perhaps I placed too much confidence in 
self, and he has humbled me in this man- 
ner I hope I shall be enabled to make any 
sacrifice for Christ. But I know I have sin 
in me still, and I, of all others, need to keep 
close to God. if I would abstain from it. O, 
do all of you pray for me. that I may be 
kept from falling into sin." 
Journal letter for his mother. 

" Oct 2d, 1842. A calm and pleasant 
Sabbath. A sacred day of rest. Sweet fore- 
taste of ; the eternal Sabbath; in the ' upper 
sanctuary.' All nature to-day seems to har- 
monize with the quiet stillness of this ; day 
of rest.' I had a peculiarly interesting sea- 
son of prayer this noon, for my beloved pa- 
rents and friends ; I prayed for each one in 
particular. I thought of my dear mother, 
kneeling alone, perhaps, in the room where 
we, her children, have so often at noon 
of the holy Sabbath, knelt with her ; and 
now they are both, in the providence of 
God, removed from her for a season. As I 
thought, I felt my heart drawn out in prayer 
for her, and for the dear younger brother, 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 'J.> 

who has just gone from under the paternal 
roof. I prayed that he might never forget 
the pious counsels he has had instilled into 
his youthful mind, and that he might be 
kept from the temptations of that great city, 
whither he has gone. It was to me a 
hallowed hour. O for many more such ! 

" Oct ±th. A most interesting monthly 
concert was held last evening in college, and 
very fully attended. The claims of a dying 
world were urged upon us with peculiar 
force, and interesting statements were read. 
Prof. H. in speaking of deciding upon what 
was our duty with regard to going out as 
foreign missionaries, remarked, that the ques- 
tion ought not to be with us, ' Shall I go] ' 
for that is ^Dur Saviour's express command 
to every one of his professed disciples : ' Go 
ye into all the world; ' but, 'Shall I remain 
at home ? ' ' Are there reasons sufficient to 
justify my staying at home, to preach the 
gospel ] ' If not, then he thought it was 
plainly our duty to go. He believed it was 
proper for a student to make up his mind in 
college, on this subject, and become early 
imbued with a missionary spirit ; ' for do we 



94 



MEMOIR. 



not find,' said he, ' that those persons who 
have made the greatest advancement in 
science, literature, and the arts, turned their 
attention early to these subjects % ' So should 
it be in the missionary cause. 

" Lord, teach me my duty. I have begun 
to read the Missionary Herald. I became 
interested in the September number. Last 
Sabbath I read part of the October number 
aloud to a friend in college, and we mean to 
continue the plan of reading regularly if we 
can. 

" Oct, 8th. The evening preceding the 
day of holy rest has again returned with 
all its sacred associations. I have always 
felt a peculiar reverence for Saturday even- 
ing ; it is so near to the holy Sabbath. I 
think, that whether it is regarded as holy 
time or not, it should at least be spent in 
preparation for the duties of the ensuing 
day. Here it is regarded as holy time, and 
a peculiar sacredness is thrown around it. 
Though for myself, I prefer the plan of keep- 
ing Sabbath evening as holy time, yet were 
it in my power, I would refrain from secular 
duties on both. In view of my life during 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. \)o 

the past week, I am constrained to cry out, 
' Why is my heart so far from thee, my God, 
my chief delight % ' Lord, help me to begin 
the coming week in thy strength, and per- 
form its duties to thine acceptance. 

" Oct. 9th. Sabbath Noon.. I have just 
risen from my knees, where I have been 
praying for the dear church of which I am 
a member, whose members, I doubt not, are 
at this moment sitting at the table of their 
Lord and Master, to commemorate his dying 
love. I have prayed for a descent of the 
Holy Ghost upon them, and I trust that the 
season will prove indeed ' a feast of fat 
things' to their souls. 

" Oct. 11th. I have had my mind much 
occupied for a day or two by having some 
exercises to prepare for college. I find that 
such things are apt to take off my atten- 
tion from higher and spiritual duties. O 
for more devotedness to God, and more en- 
gagedness in his service. I w r ant more of 
that spirit, which will enable me at all times 
to keep near to God, and inspire me with 
more devotedness to his cause. 

" Oct. 13th. The return of our Thursday 



96 



MEMOIR. 



evening lecture puts me in mind of the good 
old Wednesday evening meetings at home. 
O how have I enjoyed those meetings, 
though sometimes they have seemed so tedi- 
ous. Some of the happiest hours of my life 
have been spent in that old out-of-the-way 
chapel, and I could not even now see it 
torn down to give place to a new one, with- 
out deep feelings of sorrow. We hardly ever 
prize our privileges while they are in our 
possession. When they are gone, we look 
back upon them, and reflect how we 7night 
have been benefited by them." 

Mr. E. sometimes received visitations, as 

though direct from Heaven, as in the* fol- 
lowing instance : 

« Amherst, Feb. 10th, 1843. 

"You will want to know something, 
dear mother, with regard to my religious 
feelings, and I have long been wanting to 
write you concerning them. I believe I 
mentioned to you in a former letter some- 
thing about the state of my mind the 
Sabbath after I returned. That was in- 
deed a day of visitation to my soul from 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 97 

on high. As I was sitting in church on 
that day, in a most unaccountable and sur- 
prising manner I seemed to have poured 
upon me the influences of God's Holy Spirit. 
I looked upon things in the light of eter- 
nity, and the realities of immortality seemed 
pressing on my view. I was led to look in 
a different light on my duty — and felt that 
it was high time I should be awake, and be 
up and doing. I resolved to live nearer to 
God, to give up my easily-besetting sins, 
and examine myself to see whether I was 
in the faith. Those impressions, I trust, 
have not left me. I think I may say 
in truth, ' God has met me by the influ- 
ences of his Holy Spirit, and I have had 
a revival in my soul.' Since then, my 
Bible has been to me a delight, and my 
prayers a joy and comfort. I have found 
it sweet to meditate on God, and heaven, 
and divine things. I have been enabled to 
look forward with some degree of calmness 
to the time when I shall have to leave all 
things below, and be here no more forever. 
This precious season was sudden and unex- 
pected. No particular sermon, or prayer, or 
9 



98 



MEMOIR. 



remark, arrested my attention, It seemed 
to be the Spirit of God whispering in my 
ear, and urging upon me anew my duty. 

" You will be interested to know that the 
intimate friendship which existed between 
H. and myself is dissolved. I felt it to be my 
duty (though a grievous one) to disconnect 
myself from such an intimate friendship 
with him. He is, indeed, a professor; 
but I am too much afraid, only a professor. 
There has been a change in him, without 
doubt, but whether it is deep, gospel regen- 
eration, must be decided by his Maker. 
I feel as if I must give up all for Christ. 
Pray for me much in reference to my pres- 
ent state of feeling. My Sunday noon sea- 
sons are now of peculiar interest. 

" You spoke in your letter about my 
birthday. I remembered it, and offered up 
fervent prayer on that day for future strength. 
I trust I am enabled to make some advances 
in holiness, and in the divine life. I have 
felt of late, more of a spirit of prayer, 
and a stronger determination to press on in 
my Christian course. I begin now to real- 
ize more than ever the responsibilities which 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 99 

will come upon me when I leave college. I 
look forward to them at times with some 
anxiety, but I place my trust in God. 
He can give help in every time of need. I 
hope to be able to get much discipline of 
mind this year, and to be prepared to be a 
successful teacher w r hen I leave college." 

Again, in June, 1843, God graciously vis- 
ited the college, and souls were converted. 
Indeed, as we shall see, revivals of religion 
seemed to attend our beloved brother to the 
very close of his career. 

" Amherst, June 24th, 1843. 

" Dear Mother, — Though you have re- 
ceived a letter from me this week, and may 
not be expecting one so soon again, yet I 
feel desirous of writing to you, because I 
am persuaded you will be anxious to know 
how the work of the Lord is progressing 
among us, and because I am assured that a 
line (however often) from your dear, and, 
I trust, humbled son, will not come amiss. 
I am rejoiced to be able to inform you 
that the Lord is still continuing his good 
work, and the Spirit, by his convicting and 
converting influences, is still manifestly 



100 



MEMOIR. 



amongst us. Though the past week has 
not been so signally marked with displays 
of divine grace as the week before, yet 
we trust that three since the week com- 
menced have been born into the kingdom of 
our God — two from the Freshman class, 
and one from ours. Last Saturday the pro- 
fessors of religion in college had a day of 
fasting and prayer. Much fervent suppli- 
cation was offered up. I devoted the 
forenoon to prayer, perusing the Scriptures, 
and meditation. I took different subjects, 
and made them one by one the burden of 
my prayers, retiring to my closet at intervals 
during the forenoon. Our class met in an 
adjoining room, at one o'clock, to pray for 
spiritual blessings to descend upon us. At 
five P. M. we had a general meeting 
for all the members of college in the 
Rhetorical room. My own mind had been, 
during the day, in rather a gloomy, de- 
sponding, and doubting frame ; but be- 
tween the hours of eight and nine in the 
evening, as I was alone in my room, pouring 
out my soul in prayer to Almighty God, 
light broke in upon me, and I felt a 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 101 

nearness of access to God, which I had not 
experienced during the day. I trust I felt 
toy heart going out in love to my Saviour 
and my God. O, what a power there is in 
secret prayer ! 

" Sunday morning was a time long to be 
remembered in this institution. In our 
morning meeting, some of those who had 
lately indulged hope in Christ rose and led 
in prayer. It was truly affecting to hear 
from the lips of one, who had only a few 
days before been cursing and blaspheming 
his Maker, thanksgiving and praise for his 
deliverance from the thraldom of sin and 
iniquity. Those who have been the most 
haughty, the most profane and wicked, and 
the most opposed to this good work, have 
been made to bow at the feet of Jesus. Some 
of those who were from the most respectable, 
wealthy, and influential families, and who 
would have considered it a lasting disgrace 
to be seen in a meeting of any kind, except 
when obliged to go by the Faculty, are now 
seen sitting like little children, at the feet of 
Jesus, and humbly supplicating at the throne 
of his grace. One of the most pleasing and 
9* 



102 



MEMOIR. 



delightful features of this revival has been 
the unity and harmony of spirit which 
has pervaded the hearts of Christians. 
Where before there was wrangling, bit- 
terness, and contention, all now is peace 
and love. Christians, wherever they meet, 
take one another warmly by the hand, 
and inquire, ' Brother, how do you feel to- 
day % ' The members of the different socie- 
ties are all at peace with one another. The 
regular elections for officers, which take 
place once every term, and which are gener- 
ally the occasion of much rivalry, bitterness 
and hard feeling, passed off this time in per- 
fect quiet. Two persons (before at variance 
with one another) who stood about equal 
chances of being elected to the presidency 
of one of the societies, (which is considered 
a post of high honor,) and one of whom has 
lately indulged a hope in Christ, met to- 
gether before the election, to pray for a 
blessing, and mutually agreed to indulge 
the kindest feeling towards each other, 
whichever should be elected to the office. 
Thus, you see, that that Spirit which is 
love, joy and peace in its fruits, is shed 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 103 

down upon us. Our' play-ground, during 
the last four weeks, has been almost deserted. 
The prayer meeting has taken its place. No 
boisterous noises are heard around college 
in the evening. The influences from on 
high seem to have solemnized the minds of 
all, and led them to exclaim, ' Surely God is 
in this place.' But the Lord has not stopped 
here. He is graciously manifesting his power 
and love to the church in East street. They 
have had a faithful man of God from town, 
preaching to them a part of this week, and 
I learn that the interest is very deep. Last 
Monday night, as he was preaching to them 
from the text, ' Why tarriest thou % ' one of 
the most hardened sinners in the parish 
groaned aloud in the midst of the discourse, 
and, after meeting, retained his seat, when 
the rest went out. After some conversation 
with him, he fell down on his knees, and sub- 
mitted to God on the spot. Mr. and Mrs. B. 
have both obtained a hope, and appear re- 
markably well. In the North Parish there is 
considerable interest. One distressing death 
has lately occurred there. A young lady, in 
deep anxiety for her soul, returned from one 



104 



MEMOIR. 



of the evening meetings, and, taking a lamp, 
retired to her chamber to read Baxter's Call. 
While thus employed she fell asleep, her 
clothes took fire, and she was so shockingly 
burned, that she died in a few hours. Dur- 
ing this time she was so delirious, that she 
was unable to say a word on the subject of 
religion. 

" You will be desirous to know, dear moth- 
er, the state of my own feelings at this most 
interesting time. But I hardly dare express 
them. I trust I am ' strong in the Lord, 
and in the power of his might.' If I know 
my own heart, I am fully determined to live 
for God. But O, if I am deceived with re- 
gard to my hope, what a dreadful thing it 
will be ! I strive to examine myself daily 
at the bar of conscience, and by the word 
of God, to see whether I am living aright. I 
often ask myself the question, if I am this 
night called away, can I say sincerely 'I 
know in whom I have believed.' One great 
evidence that I get of my change of heart, is 
an increased love for my closet duties, and 
for the ordinances and worship of God's 
house. I feel as if the things that once I 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 105 

loved, now I hate, and those I hated, now I 
love. I tremble lest I should again be left 
of God. I feel that I need to keep very 
close to my Saviour. It would be in vain to 
ask you to pray for me, my dear mother, for 
I know that abundant, fervent prayer goes 
forth from your lips, that Almighty God 
would bless and keep your absent son from 
the paths of vice and folly, and enable him 
to lead a holy life." 

" Amherst, July 1, 1843. 

" Dear Mother, — I hail with joy the re- 
turn of the day which I have set apart for 
my weekly letter to you. I have now two 
ways of giving vent to my joy on account of 
the revival in my own soul, and the revival 
which we trust is still in progress among us. 
The first, is in pouring out my soul in prayer 
to Almighty God ; the second, in writing 
to you. There have been many things the 
past week which have had a tendency to 
lessen the deep interest in religious duties — 
things which occur in the ordinary routine 
of a college life, and cannot well be helped : 
for instance, the regular summer exhibition, 



106 



MEMOIR. 



(a schedule of which I send you,) the Senior 
examination, and the departure of a part of 
the Seniors (it being now Senior vacation). 
These things, though they have had a ten- 
dency to retard, yet, I trust have by no means 
dissipated the interest in the work of grace 
in progress among us. Last Sunday was a 
day of God's love and power. It was a day 
of joy and gladness to my soul ; I had ' a 
feast of fat things.' The preaching was cer- 
tainly of the most powerful kind. In the 
morning, we had a sermon from Mr. Hooker, 
of Falmouth, from the text, c No man having 
put his hand to the plough,' &c. ; just what 
was needed, at the present time. In the after- 
noon, Prof. Hitchcock preached from the 
text, ' Murderers of fathers, murderers of 
mothers ; ' this sermon seemed to be new at 
college, and commanded the strictest atten- 
tion. In the evening, the most powerful ap- 
peal that I ever heard was made to sinners, 
by Prof. Fiske, from the text, ' Nay, father 
Abraham,' &c. ; every limb was in motion, 
and his voice was raised to its utmost pitch, 
while his numerous audience sat before him 
breathless and silent as the grave. The clos- 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 107 

ing part was fearfully sublime. One of our 
most active Christians remarked to me, that, 
at the close of the discourse, he found himself 
holding on to the seat with both hands, he 
was so much frightened. With a voice I shall 
never forget, Prof. Fiske remarked, ' One 
more barrier, sinner, has been placed in your 
pathway to-day. Beware that you do not 
move it aside ; you may do it, you can do 
it, but beware ! It may be the last barrier 
which God in his mercy has interposed 
between you and the damnation of hell. 
On one side of it, I see written, in fearful 
characters, " Murderers of fathers, murder- 
ers of mothers ; " on the other side, " Let 
him alone, he is joined to his idols ; let him 
alone." ' One impenitent sinner retired to 
his room after that discourse, and, as we 
humbly hope, made the angels of heaven to 
rejoice over his return to God, that night. 
He was a member of the church before he 
came to college ; but has led a most profli- 
gate life since he came, and had given up all 
hope. He was a person with whom I was ac- 
quainted last winter, and whom I occasional- 
lv visited. After God in his mercv 4 snatched 



108 



MEMOIR. 



me from the horrible pit,' I went and told him 
of the change in my feelings, and with a beat- 
ing heart, for the first time, asked him if we 
should have prayers. He consented, and 
always heard me with great kindness, when 
I spoke to him on the subject. About a 
week before his conversion, he began to be 
very much distressed in mind, and at times 
was violently agitated, but ashamed to con- 
fess the cause. I took a walk with him, 
and told him I believed the spirit of God 
was striving with him, and entreated him to 
lay hold on eternal life. ; I have been feel- 
ing on the subject,' says he, 'but I am 
determined to drive away these feelings, and 
to indulge them no longer; I have too 
proud a heart to submit, to come out before 
the world and tell of the change ; and 
rather than do it, if there is a hell, I must 
lie down and endure it.' My heart was 
pained, and I could say no more. I saw 
him again on Saturday, but not after that, 
till Tuesday noon, just as I was going 
into a meeting. Some one told me of his 
conversion the night before. It was men- 
tioned, also, in the meeting. After meeting, 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 109 

I went to his room, seized him by the hand, 
and told him I was rejoiced to hear that 
he was infinitely better off than when I 
la^t Btiw him, and that he had not pushed 
aside the barrier which was thrown in 
his way on Sunday. He seemed indeed 
like a returned prodigal. His proud heart 
is humbled. He is a member of the Junior 
class. One more, also, we trust, in our 
class is indulging a trembling hope. I 
would gladly fill up my letter with an 
account of these things, but I find I must 
devote a portion of it to other matters." 

Mr. Emerson, in other letters, alludes to 
his studies, and gives sometimes a detailed 
account of the branches to which he devoted 
his attention. It was his constant aim to 
discharge faithfully every duty. During his 
residence in Amherst, he became very much 
attached to the place. We can say of him, 
as has been said of another, " He loved the 
quiet of its groves, the richness of its val- 
leys, the graceful curvatures of the moun- 
tains that are around it, and the sacred 
trains of thought that are suggested by the 
neighboring spires, the still villages, and the 
10 



110 MEMOIR. 

river that winds calmly by them. The rich 
scenery of the place had a benign influence 
upon his sensitive spirit, stored his mind 
with images of beauty, and became so asso- 
ciated with his labors, that he loved them 
the more for the beauties amid which they 
were performed." 

He regarded his teachers with the highest 
esteem and respect, and was anxious to 
do all in his power to meet their wishes, and 
sustain their authority. He looked with con- 
tempt upon those mischievous plans to which 
students of uncultivated manners and feeble 
capacity, sometimes resort, to annoy and 
insult their teachers. He felt, as every in- 
genuous mind would feel, that such conduct 
was beneath the dignity of scholars, and 
utterly despicable in any class in society. 

His influence among the students was of 
the happiest character. His diligence, his 
kindness and courtesy, and, above all, his 
ardent piety, made a salutary impression 
upon those around him. His attachments 
to his classmates continued through life, as 
his correspondence abundantly show r s. The 
interest he felt in the religious condition of 



RESIDENCE AT AMHERST COLLEGE. 



Ill 



the college fully appears in the preceding 
letters. Nor can we be too grateful to God 
for tlie rich revival seasons with which this 
excellent college, ever since its establish- 
ment, has been blessed. Favored, as it is, 
with professors, and other teachers as distin- 
guished for their piety, as for refined taste 
and intellectual culture — the child of many 
fervent prayers, and the object of deep inter- 
est with thousands of Christians throughout 
New England — this college has repeatedly 
received the smiles and blessings of heaven, 
and has sent forth streams that have made 
glad the city of our God. May it long con- 
tinue a rich blessing to our churches, our 
country, and the world; and may the re- 
wards of heaven be the portion of those 
faithful men who preside over its interests, 
and strive so zealously to promote the moral, 
as well as intellectual culture of the pupils 
committed to their charge. 

Mr. Emerson was graduated with honor, 
August 8th, 1844. The last scenes of col- 
lege life deeply impressed his mind. He 
was anxious to return to his pleasant home, 
and yet it was painful to part with his class- 



112 



MEMOIR. 



mates, and especially with those with whom 
he had taken sweet spiritual communion. 
But the changes incident to human life he 
felt that he must submit to. His sadness, 
however, was mingled with devout thankful- 
ness to God, for having carried him safely 
through his college course, and conducted 
him so far towards the great object of his 
heart's desire,-— the gospel ministry. 



CHAPTER IV. 

HIS RESIDENCE IN CONWAY, MASS., ETC., 1844-1846. 

Mr. Emerson's father having been unfor- 
tunate in business, his son was desirous of 
earning something towards his own support. 
Accordingly, in September, 1844, he went to 
Conway, Mass., the place of his grandfather's 
ministerial labors, and there took charge of 
a school. 

His qualifications for teaching were of a 
very high order, and he entered upon his 
new duties with ardent desires, to mould the 
character, as well as promote the intellectual 
development of his pupils. He carried with 
him to Conway his devotional spirit, his 
habits of self-contemplation and secret pray*- 
er, and his deep interest in the salvation of 
souls. The Spirit of God, like a cloud by 
day, and a pillar of fire by night, seemed 
to attend him, and to direct his steps. In 
his school, in the families with whom he 
10* 



114 MEMOIR. 

boarded, in the church, and in the commu- 
nity, he labored to exert a strong religious 
influence. 

After being at Conway a short time, be 
wrote to his parents as follows : — 

" September 15th, 1844. 

" Mr. Harris has preached at home all 
day. I think I shall enjoy his preaching 
very much. Our intermission is only an 
hour and a quarter at noon, and I do not 
know but I shall have to observe our season 
of prayer, after meeting in the afternoon. 
There is so much going in and out here, in 
the intermission, that I cannot very well be 
retired. I trust the season will continue to 
be one of great interest and profit to us both. 
I have consented for the present to supply 
any vacancy of a teacher, which may occur 
from Sabbath to Sabbath, and shall not take 
a regular class just yet. Mr. H. wishes me to 
take charge of a Sunday evening meeting, 
but I don't feel spiritual life enough to do 
it. I wish I was more engaged. I know I 
need to be. Do, my dear parents, pray that 
I may have a quickening from on high. I 
do not feel as if I was at all qualified for 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 1 15 

the great work of the ministry. I have 
none of those feelings which were manifested 
by J. B. Taylor, Homer and others. If I do 
not feel as if I could speak in a prayer meet- 
ing here, O, what shall I do when called 
upon to address the great congregation % 
The Lord grant me his Spirit. 

"My first week in Conway has closed. 
How many weeks I shall spend, God only 
knows. I feel as if I had made a beginning, 
and could go on for this term. I think I 
can say I do like Conway. Everything con- 
spires to make it pleasant. It is a favorable 
time of year, and fine weather, and I feel as 
if my name gave me a license to become 
acquainted with anybody. People seem dis- 
posed to be familiar, and invite me freely to 
come and see them. I hope to be able not 
only to make myself contented here, but 
also to do good, and grow in knowledge 
and grace." 

"October 1st, 1844. 

"My school is still flourishing, every 
Wednesday afternoon we have an exercise 
in composition and declamation. My even- 
ings are spent in reading, writing and visit- 
ing, I was glad to receive your letter on 



116 MEMOIR. 

the morning of Fast-day, and to know that 
you also had been looking forward to the 
day with feelings of interest. It proved a 
good day to me. I gave up my school in 
the afternoon, and attended meeting. It 
was the fullest church meeting I have at- 
tended since I have been in Conway. There 
was a spirit of freedom, and I thought the 
power of the Holy Ghost was present. In 
the evening I attended our usual Thursday 
evening prayer meeting. This meeting was 
established this fall, Mr. H. agreeing to sus- 
tain it one week, and some of the brethren 
pledging to sustain it each alternate w r eek. I 
must tell you a little about our religious 
state. We begin to have the hearing ear 
among us. The number in the district 
where I am now boarding, that attend meet- 
ing on Sabbath evening, varies from sixty to 
seventy-five, and I am permitted to speak to 
them every w r eek, of things pertaining to 
the Saviour's kingdom. "We have had some 
solemn meetings, great attention and consid- 
erable weeping, but as yet no signs of genu- 
ine, repentance. One encouraging fact I will 
mention. A Baptist professor in this neigh- 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 



117 



borhood, who has, for a long time, been 
indifferent to the things of religion, has 
received a sudden and powerful refreshing, 
and come out decidedly for the cause again. 
He now assists his brethren by his prayers 
and exhortations. Other symptoms of vi- 
tality have begun to appear in members of 
the church, in different parts of the town. 
In view of this state of things, I proposed 
to three of the brethren (of whom Mr. C. 
is one) to set apart Monday evening for 
special prayer, for this village, in which we 
are laboring. The plan met their views, 
and we held our first meeting a fortnight 
ago last Monday eve. Mr. H. met with 
us, and we had a comforting season. At 
our second meeting, w r e agreed to devote 
a few minutes at nine o'clock every evening 
in our closets, to pray for the same object ; 
also to converse personally with some impen- 
itent sinner. Every fortnight Mr. C. and I 
go into a neighboring district, on Saturday 
evening, to help the brethren in sustaining 
a prayer meeting, which was commenced 
this fall. The attendance thus far, has been 
very encouraging. We are looking for a 



118 MEMOIR. 

revival with some hope and great fear. If 
we could only get clear of self, and feel that 
God alone must be glorified, and precious 
souls saved from the second death, we should 
have more encouragement. But this one 
thing, I believe, we are fully determined to 
do ; to pray that we may serve and glorify 
God, and in this we are united as touch- 
ing one thing. I set apart Saturday, the 
27th, for prayer, meditation, reading the 
Scriptures, and reviewing my journal; had 
a cheering day. I found a record which I 
made on the day I was eleven years old, 
which affected me very much. I hope I gave 
myself away anew to the Lord on that day." 
In many of his letters, Mr. Emerson 
speaks very highly of the people of Conway. 
In one he writes: " You will have learnt be- 
fore this, that I have become quite at home 
in Conway. It is, to be sure, a retired place, 
but I like it all the better for that. The 
people have not become so imbued with the 
notions and maxims of the world, as to sep- 
arate themselves into clans, and have differ- 
ent grades in society. They form one great 
family. The members of the church are re- 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 119 

Itiarkably harmonious. They arc one in 
feeling, in action, and I trust are one in 
Christ Jesus. They are, withal, a very in- 
telligent people, and have among them some 
very able and talented men. Their minister 
is a man of no ordinary stamp, and has 
been, without doubt, a great blessing to the 
people " 

Mr. Emerson took a very deep personal 
interest in the happiness and welfare of all 
his pupils, entering cordially into their joys 
and sorrows. This is touchingly illustrated 
by the following incident : — 

" To-night is one of those times in which 
I feel peculiarly like writing, and such times 
have been more frequent since I returned 
from home, than ever before. I have been 
transported back to-day, to the time when I 
was ten years old, and have been passing- 
through, in imagination, some of the scenes 
that I then passed through, and have ex- 
claimed, ' O, that I felt and lived and prayed 
as in months past.' The cause of those feel- 
ings is this ; I have attended, this afternoon, 
the funeral of the father of one of my best 
scholars. He was one of our most respect- 



120 



MEMOIR. 



able and wealthy citizens, and only the last 
winter represented the town in the legisla- 
ture at Boston. He died of consumption, 
aged forty-two, leaving four children, three 
of them under twelve years of age. Their 
own mother died about four years since, a 
pious, lovely woman. They deeply mourned 
her loss. Her eldest son, now just past 
fifteen, was very affectionate, kind, and 
attentive to her. Her death made a deep 
impression on his mind, and soon after 
that event, he indulged a hope of salva- 
tion; and, at the age of twelve, united 
with the church. He has proved him- 
self, I think, a Christian indeed. I learn 
from a gentleman w T ho lived next door 
to him, that he always used to overhear him 
morning and evening, at his private devo- 
tions, in which he was very punctual. He 
has attended my school ever since I have 
been in Conway, and has been in my Sabbath 
School class. I think he has the most amia- 
ble disposition of any boy I ever met with: 
He is fitting for college, and is almost, if not 
quite, the best scholar I have had in my 
school. I never loved a scholar as I have 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 



121 



loved him. lie is so manly, so mature, so 
conscientious, so strictly upright, that you 
could not help loving him with all your 
heart. So punctual has he been in his at- 
tendance, that, until a few days ago, when 
his father was taken worse, he rarely failed 
of being present in his seat. All my sym- 
paties have been enlisted in his behalf, 
during the last fortnight. His father went 
out until that time. Then he became de- 
ranged, and remained so, except at inter- 
vals, until his death. The little fellow 
loved his father dearly. I well recollect one 
morning, after I had made mention of him 
in my morning prayer at school, that he 
cried as if his heart would break, and it was 
a long time before the violence of his feel- 
ings could be repressed. And never shall I 
forget the morning of his father's death. His 
friends had promised to send for him, if there 
was a change, and just after school had com- 
menced, on Thursday, the other boys saw 
his younger brother coming at full speed 
down the hill. The color quickly forsook 
his cheek, for he knew too well his errand. 
1 He's dying,' said the little messenger, and I 
11 



122 MEMOIR. 

turned to call my pupil out. But I found I 
could not speak, and I beckoned him to the 
door. With a face wet with tears, he looked 
up to me and said, ' Shall I take my satchel? ' 
I could not help noticing, and being struck 
with the question. So faithful had he always 
been to take home those books for study, 
that even in that dread hour, he hardly knew 
whether it would be duty to leave them. 
No, I exclaimed, as I hastly took them from 
him, and bid him hurry home. His father 
breathed his last, just as he reached the door. 
It would have melted your heart, I know, 
could you have seen him stand to-day, in 
presence of the vast crowd assembled at the 
funeral, and drop his scalding tears thick 
and fast upon the face of that beloved father, 
now cold in death. After the funeral, I 
went to the house to invite him to take a 
walk. ' This seems a gloomy w r orld to-night,' 
said the poor boy. I felt almost unable to 
reply to anything he said, for, though young 
in years, he was truly old in sorrow. We 
conversed together on death and eternity, 
and it was truly a solemn hour. So like 
my own experience did his conversion seem, 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 123 

that I was, as I said at the beginning of this 
letter, transported back to the time when I 
was ten or twelve years of age. I have often 
spoken of late to large audiences, in the con- 
ference room, but never have I spoken with 
such heartfelt emotion, as I did when I ad- 
dressed that audience of only one, seated on 
an old board in a retired place, whither we 
had strayed. I hope I shall be enabled to do 
him much good. I must ask your pardon 
for having filled so much of my letter with 
this account, but my heart is full of it, and 
I could write nothing else now." 

It is interesting to notice that whatever 
topic Mr. Emerson may commence writing 
upon, he is certain, very soon, to find him- 
self floating on the stream of his religious 
feelings. It is also a significant fact, that 
he cannot be long in a place without wit- 
nessing the descent of the showers of divine 
grace around him. He seems to be an elec- 
tric conductor drawing towards him the 
influences of divine grace and love. 

After excusing himself for not writing 
before, he says : 

" Nov. 1th, 1845. Just before my cold 



124 MEMOIR. 

came on I had agreed to deliver the annual 
address before the Conway Agricultural As- 
sociation. I did it reluctantly ; at first posi- 
tively refusing : but on being more earnestly 
solicited, I consented. Immediately after I 
had consented to do this, the Lord com- 
menced raining down righteousness upon 
us. I verily believe we are on the eve, if 
not in the beginning of a glorious revival of 
religion. As soon as these indications of 
good commenced, I felt as if I must be in 
the work, and the very week in which I 
wrote a large part of my address, I not only 
w r as in school every day, but also attended 
a meeting every evening during the week, 
riding one evening three or four miles to at- 
tend one. Suffice it to say, for the present, 
in regard to my address, that I finished 
it at odd hours, and on last Wednesday 
evening delivered it in the large town hall 
to an audience of between three and four 
hundred persons. The supper followed im- 
mediately after at the Conway Temperance 
Hotel, where one hundred persons sat down ; 
among whom were Mr. H. and all the dis- 
tinguished men of Conway. Being the 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 125 

orator of the evening, and seated on the 
right hand of the President, I was called 
upon to make the opening speech by the 
following toast, which, as I am writing 
home, I shall venture to copy : 

" ' Our eloquent Agricultural Orator. If 
this evening's specimen is the first fruit, 
what must the ingathering of the harvest 
be?' 

" I was followed by Rev. Mr, H., Rev. Mr. 
F., of Brooklyn, who was present, Dea. H., 
Dea. C, Gen. W., Gen. D., Capt. O. C, &c. 
We had a very pleasant, social interview, 
and broke up at half past nine. And now 
you will be disposed to think that I am so 
inflated with pride, that I shall not come 
down again to the common things of life 
with a good relish. But what must I do? 
Refuse to take part in such things because I 
have a proud heart, like others, or when I 
have taken part in them, shall I refuse to 
write home an account of them ? But more 
about this when I get home. 

"You will be anxious to hear more about 
the interest in religion. It has commenced 
in this village, and the first case of awakening 
11* 



126 MEMOIR. 

was in the house next to the one where I 
board. I think I have already written you 
about the increased attendance on our meet- 
ings, and the new spirit of prayer which 
had been stirred up among some of the 
brethren. This has been continually increas- 
ing; and a few Sabbaths ago there was a 
minister in town from Arkansas. In the 
evening he came up and preached a most 
powerful sermon in the school-house in this 
district, and the truth took deep root. The 
next day one of the girls who works in the 
factory came to him, to inquire the way of 
eternal life. About this time a minister of 
the Baptist denomination came into town, 
and preached for a week or two almost every 
evening. Several cases of awakening have 
occurred under his ministry, and some conver- 
sions. In this village, we hope, there have 
been four or five conversions. Last Saturday 
evening I attended a most solemn meeting. 
The voices of new-born souls were heard, 
testifying of God's goodness, and giving 
praise to his name. The meeting was sol- 
emn as the grave ; the silence broken only 
by the outbursting and irrepressible tears 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 127 

and sobs of those present. There is also a 
very interesting state of things in the church. 
At the preparatory lecture, a week ago, after 
preaching a most excellent and appropriate 
sermon, Mr. Harris was so much affected, 
that it was with difficulty he got through 
his last prayer. The church were melted. 
"When we came together yesterday, some 
feared that the interest was somewhat dimin- 
ished on account of the meeting the evening 
before. But no ! The feeling had advanced 
fifty per cent. The church were again melt- 
ed into brokenness of heart, and we felt 
that it was good to be there. When the 
question was proposed by a brother at the 
close of the meeting, ' Shall we have an extra 
meeting on Thursday of next week ? ' the 
church simultaneously came upon their feet 
and said — s Let us have it.' Still there is 
great fear expressed that we shall yet miss 
of the blessing. Mr. H. said, yesterday, he 
felt as if a great sheet had been let down 
from heaven, but he knew not but it would 
be drawn up again into heaven. The con- 
ference meeting, in the centre of the town, 
where lately we could get only ten or fifteen 



128 MEMOIR. 

together, was last evening filled to overflow 
ing. The enemies of religion are busy. Last 
Friday evening a prayer meeting was ap- 
pointed at the house of Mr. C. Some flour- 
barrels were carried on to the hill back of 
the house and stuffed with hay, and set on 
fire about the time of the meeting. They 
did not succeed, however, in breaking it up 
for any length of time. But I can write no 
more, for my hands are full of business." 

He relates the following incident as hav- 
ing occurred on his journey to Conway: 

" I was very much interested in a young 
man that I found boarding in Mr. B.'s 
family. They said he was a very good 
young man, but rather ' green,' ' verdant ' 
they called it. I soon found, how r ever, that 
his greenness consisted in his readiness to 
speak at any time on the subject of religion. 
A Universalist commenced a discussion with 
him during the evening, and for two hours 
the young man defended the religion of 
Christ, like a good soldier. It was trium- 
phant, unanswerable. I slept with him that 
night. Without knowing that I was a pro- 
fessor of religion, or that I cared for any of 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. H9 

these things, lie took down his Bible and 
announced his intention of reading. I, of 
course, assented. He read a passage and 
commented on it, and then offered a short 
and fervent prayer to the throne of grace. 
We lay awake till near twelve o'clock, con- 
versing on religious matters, and I found 
that he took a deep interest in the welfare of 
P. and L. He has offered L. a seat free in 
Park Street Church, if he will attend regu- 
larly. He is about twenty three or four, 
and is a carriage painter. I thought if this 
is greenness, I hope I shall soon become as 
green'' 

In December, the revival reached his 
school, and the desire of his heart was 
gratified in the conversion of some of his 
pupils. 

" My school has opened very prosper- 
ously, numbering twenty-nine scholars, and 
I am expecting another, soon. But best of 
all, the Lord has poured out his Spirit upon 
us. I have ten ladies, and, if I can judge 
correctly, all but one are interested in the 
subject of religion. Three are professors ; 
three have lately indulged hope, and three 



130 



MEMOIR. 



appear anxious, and are beginning to attend 
the inquiry meeting. C. H., of whom I 
wrote you in my last letter, attends my 
school, and appears well. P. B. is quite 
engaged, and is, I think, doing good. He 
took home one of his companions, to spend 
the night with him, a short time since, and 
conversed with him on the subject of reli- 
gion. He found his mind quite tender. 
Things appear different in school. Instead 
of trifling and vanity, I now hear such 
words as, ' meeting,' ' inquiry meeting,' 
' eternal things,' &c. On the whole, I think 
I may safely say we are enjoying a precious 
revival of religion. The work seems to be 
principally in the centre of the town. The 
evening meetings are very fully attended. 
Although there was quite a storm last 
Thursday, a number came two and three 
miles to attend the evening conference. 
Extra prayer meetings are established, and 
well attended. The work is very silent, 
unusually so. On this account, I hope it 
will prove lasting and genuine. Some young 
men in town appear to be serious, and it is 
hoped that they will soon come out on the 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 



131 



Lord's side. Mr. H. is constantly engaged, 
and active. I have not called on him yet, 
but hope to have a talk with him soon. I 
of course cannot be unmoved amid such a 
state of things, but I feel my insufficiency. 
Every day convinces me that if I am a 
Christian, I am not where I should be. I 
trust I have some longings to be more like 
Christ, and something of an earnest desire 
to continue in his love. I feel sick of 
this living by impulses. I want ' to abide 
under the shadow of the Almighty.' I 
have again commenced a course of self- 
examination, and hope, by the grace of God, 
to be enabled to prosecute it. I have en- 
deavored to give more time to secret prayer, 
and have commenced the reading of Isaiah, 
with Scott. I hope soon to commence 
a course of discipline in regard to econo- 
mizing time, money, &c. But perhaps be- 
fore I write again, all these resolutions will 
be broken, and Satan will have led me cap- 
tive at his will. It has been so heretofore, 
and may be so again. Do I not need abun- 
dant prayer at this time'? I feel a desire 
also to labor in a more direct manner for 



132 



MEMOIR. 



the good of souls. I do not feel satisfied 
with exhortation, simply, in prayer meetings. 
The Sabbath evening meetings in the centre 
of the town are very fully attended. I 
attend those in this village, and go down 
there on Thursday eve." 

The revival contined into January, 1846. 
He writes again as follows : 

" It would have given you joy, to have 
been a witness of such scenes as we have 
been passing through in this place for 
several weeks. The Spirit has been poured 
out, not like a ' rushing mighty wind,' but 
like the soft dews, and gentle rain, fer- 
tilizing and making glad our Zion. I 
had prayed for a blessing, and thought I 
had faith for my school as a grain of 
mustard seed, but when the blessing came 
I am not sure, but I was as much astonished 
as the witch of Endor was, when Samuel 
himself actually appeared. Seven of my 
scholars give pleasing evidence of a change 
of heart, and three or four more attend the 
inquiry meeting, but I cannot say that they 
are feeling deeply. I do not know of any 
conversions since the one I last mentioned, 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 133 

but Mr. Harris tells me that two or three 
times, when he thought the interest had 
subsided, it seemed to revive and increase 
again. I hope it will prove so again. Our 
meetings are full and solemn. Many are 
interested who do not profess to be in- 
quirers, and much fervent prayer has been 
offered for them. The desire seems to be 
that the work may go on unto perfection. 
With me God has been dealing in an unu- 
sual manner. I sing of mercy, and not of 
judgment. I have not felt that peculiar, 
intense excitement, which I am apt to feel 
on such occasions, but in some way (may 
I not attribute it to the Spirit]) have felt 
at morning, noon, and evening, a gentle 
drawing towards Christ. I have sinned 
every day, and many a dark cloud has 
appeared in my spiritual sky in conse- 
quence. But I have not felt so much cast 
down, that I could nol^ look to the Lord 
and implore aid for another effort at resist- 
ance, and by his help I have gained some 
victories. I resolved when I came back to 
commence a careful study of the prophetical 
part of the Bible, with Scott, as I am in more 
12 



134 



MEMOIR. 



ignorance of this portion than any other. In 
doing this I think I have been blessed. I 
generally read two chapters a day, and as I 
could not well do this, if I read the practi- 
cal observations, I have chosen to omit them 
in going over it this time. I suppose you 
would tell me that this is the very marrow 
of the reading, but my object is to get an 
understanding of the prophecies before en- 
tering the seminary, and must substitute 
other religious reading for this portion of 
Scott. I think, upon reflection, you would 
fall in with this plan. My closet devotions, 
though not of that rapturous kind that I 
have now and then enjoyed, have been 
continued feasts. I have felt a stronger 
faith in casting myself on God, in commit- 
ting all my ways to him, and in believing 
that he will work out that which is good. 
I have made the path of duty in regard to 
teaching another year a special subject of 
prayer, and have prayed that if God wishes 
me to commence my preparation for the min- 
istry next fall, he would make the way so 
plain that I cannot mistake it. I trust I 
shall experience no disappointment if the 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 



\:\r, 



decision is to teach, but I desire to be about 
the great work to which I have devoted my 
life. I think I should now differ from some 
of the views which I expressed to you when 
at home, though I do not yet dare to say 
so. Some habits of mine cling so close to 
me, that to tear them off is like taking 
away a part of my very self. Still I am 
beginning to see the necessity of effecting 
a great work, in these particulars, and I am 
making a very feeble beginning. I think 
I set a somewhat higher value on time than 
I did in 1845. I am trying to search my 
heart, and to distinguish animal feeling from 
true zeal, and a romantic piety from a sin- 
cere steady walk with God. Pray for me, 
for Satan desireth me, and my weak faith 
may fail. I am praying that all your 
doubts may be removed, and that you may 
come into perfect liberty. Mr. H. continues 
his sermons on Personal Holiness. They 
are very instructive. It w r ill not be his fault 
if all the members of his church do not 
come up to a much higher standard in holi- 
ness than they have yet reached. I wish 
you could have heard a sermon he preached 



136 MEMOIR. 

lately from the text, ' Sin that dwelleth in 
me.' He is no perfectionist, but longs to 
have all his church live godly in Christ 
Jesus." 

While at Conway, Mr. Emerson availed 
himself of every leisure moment to write in 
his Journal. His topics are the same as 
those in his letters — the state of religion 
in his own heart and in the community 
around him. We give the following ex- 
tracts : 

"April \%th. I sometimes feel that I 
have no love for souls, I pray for dying 
sinners, I talk to them, but O, I do not 
have that love 'for them which many waters 
cannot quench nor floods drown. Last 
night and to-day wrote No/ 6 of my loose 
papers.* I sometimes try this plan, as I 
am but little used to speaking ex tempore. 
I hope that the paper may be blessed when 
I shall make use of it. 

" June lOfA. Returned last Saturday 
from a visit of six weeks to my dear native 
home. I have enjoyed the society of be- 

# Short addresses for social prayer meetings. 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 137 

loved friends much, but ' have let my God, 
my Saviour, go.' I have neglected prayer 
and the Holy Bible, and have permitted my 
heart to £0 out after its own sinful vanities. 
Thus it is with me ; in the day time the 
drought consumes me, and by night the 
frost. O, when shall I be like him after 
whom, I trust, my weary soul pants. 

" July 6th. Have been comforted by 
reading a portion of Payson's life, and find- 
ing that he had the same feelings which I 
experience in reference to spiritual pride. I 
am full of it. Have had, however, to-day 
some hopes that I shall be somewhat free 
from it. I cannot bear the least opposition, 
the least disapproving look, the smallest 
smile of contempt. O, what a martyr 
should I make ! What a missionary ! I 
expect God will punish me for this soon. All 
the humility I ever have is pride, a little 
reduced. I am too proud to trust God to 
help me to speak in a prayer meeting, and 
so I am compelled to dress up a speech in 
language beforehand, and, of course, no 
soul is at all affected by my remarks. O, 
when shall I have that ardent love for souls 
12* 



138 memoir. 

that will lead me to endure so slight a thing 
as a laugh, at a slip which I may chance to 
make if I go unprepared. Have had more 
freedom in prayer to-day than usual, and 
think I have received comfort from the 
sacrament. 

" September 2d. I have set apart this day 
as a day of special humiliation and prayer 
before the face of Almighty God, on account 
of my grievous backslidings and fearful 
wanderings from him during the past sum- 
mer. I have indeed cast off fear and 
restrained prayer before him. So low have 
I sunk, that for a long season I have neg- 
lected secret devotion, and that too, while 
I was urging its necessity upon others, 
and in the belief of those around me, 
who are the disciples of Jesus, practising it 
steadily myself. O, the blackness of the 
human heart ! O, the depth of my depravi- 
ty ! Will the Lord be favorable any more ? 
I will seek him yet again. I have read the 
ninth chapter of Daniel, and have looked 
away in prayer to Daniel's God. My first 
prayer has recounted God's mercies to me 
from infancy to the present moment ; has 



RESIDENCE TN CONWAY. 139 

spread out before him the long, dark cata- 
logue of my sins, and has implored his 
forgiving mercy through Christ. I have 
sought for the special manifestation of his 
face and favor to-day. I have also reviewed 
my journal, and find something written just 
ten years ago to-day. Would that I felt 
the love of God burning in my heart, as I 
trust I did about that time. My second 
prayer was for strength to run with new 
vigor, and alacrity, the Christian race ; that 
I might, to-day, give myself unreservedly to 
the Lord. And I humbly hope I did once 
more give myself away, in sincerity, in a 
new and everlasting covenant never to be 
broken, to Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. 
My third prayer was, that I might have 
grace given me to continue in well doing, 
that I might not be deceived in regard to 
my hope, that I might be delivered from 
spiritual pride, and might be enabled to get 
the victory over those temptations which 
have heretofore hindered me in my journey 
heavenward. My fourth prayer was, that 
I might be enabled to live and act, like a 
Christian, in the village in which I dwell ; 



110 MEMOIR. 

might do good in my school, and might be 
a lasting benefit to the members of my 
Sabbath school class; also, that my labors 
in the conference meeting might be blessed. 
My fifth petition was, a review of the peti- 
tions offered during the day, and a renewed 
committal of myself to Jehovah. God 
grant that it may not be in vain that this 
day has been set apart, but may his good 
Spirit rest upon, and dwell with me now, 
henceforth, and evermore. Amen. 

"Saturday, September 21th, 1845. Another 
mile-stone in the journey of life has been 
reached. I am twenty-two years old ! Eleven 
years ago to-day I wrote in my journal — 
' I am eleven years old.' God only knows 
whether eleven years hence the hand that 
now pens these lines shall be mouldering in 
the grave,* or whether it will be able to 
write — I am thirty-three years old. The 
uncertainty that attends it makes me solemn ; 
would that it might keep me solemn. I 
have no set of resolves to make to-day. I 
have too often found such a plan worse 

# At this hour, less than six years from that period, that 
hand is mouldering in the grave. 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 141 

than in vain, I have set apart the day as 
a day of special prayer, and my only purpose 
for the coming year is — I will go on in the 
strength of the Lord God. 

" December 2lst. The Lord has been 
pouring out his Spirit upon this place 
during the last two months, and in a still 
manner has, we trust, called about twenty 
souls from darkness to light. Among the 
number- are several of my scholars, who 
seem to give good evidence of a change of 
heart. But O, how insensible am I to the 
goodness of God ! 

' Yet I mourn my stubborn will 
Find my sin a grief and thrall.' 

" January 1st, 1846. ' Thus far the Lord 
hath led me on,' and here would I make 
mention of his goodness, and with the new- 
year resolve in the strength of God, and 
record my determination to live for him. 
"What scenes await me during this year, 
God only knows. This much I know; 
during the past year I have not attained 
unto perfection. But I believe I have a 
closer walk with God, and have an assur- 
ance in my own soul that I am his. I 



J 42 MEMOIR. 

am convinced that there is such a thing 
as walking with Gocl clay by clay. I am 
tired of this fitful religion, this spasmodic 
piety. I am determined to entreat God 
every day to let me live with him and for 
him. The year which has just closed has 
been a year of unbroken mercies. Every 
day has found me in the possession of life, 
health, food, raiment, shelter, friends and 
innumerable mercies. Every Sabbath has 
found me in the house of God, and above 
all, the close of the year has found me in 
the midst of a precious revival of religion, 
and my school is sharing largely in the 
blessing. O, have I not reason to be thank- 
ful ? Have I not abundant occasion to say, 
' I will go on in the strength of the Lord ? 
O, my heavenly Father, I desire to begin 
the new year in thy service, and whether I 
live to complete all its months and weeks 
and days on earth, or whether during its 
fleeting course I am summoned by thee to 
an unending state of existence, may I still 
be found in the glorious employment of 
loving and serving thee. 

" January 3d. I hope I have had some 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 143 

longings during the past week to be made 
more like Christ. But I do not feel as Paul 
did when he could ' count all things but 
loss/ Yet this insensibility will continue 
until I seek more earnestly to put away 
every sin, and cleave to the Lord with all 
my heart. I do think it is my earnest 
desire to-night to live continually a life 
of faith and holy obedience. I hope to 
strengthen this desire by abundant prayer, 
and seeking earnestly to practise every 
known duty. May I be enabled to obtain 
strength to-morrow by partaking of the 
emblems of the body and blood of the Lord. 
"January 18fA, Sabbath. Have been very 
dull and lifeless in the sanctuary, but this 
evening have enjoyed a delightful season of 
prayer, committing myself to that God 
whose I am, and whom I believe I desire to 
serve. Satan, for a day, has had the advan- 
tage, but, by the grace of God, his reign 
shall be short, and 

1 A feeble saint shall win the day, 
Though death and hell obstruct the way.' 

God has worked wonders in my school. 
Seven or eight are indulging a hope, and 



114 MEMOIR. 

appear to give good evidence of a change of 
heart. To the Lord be all the glory, and 
may the work be carried on by him. 

" January 25th. Last night went out 
with some of my Christian brethren about 
four miles, to attend a prayer meeting at 
the house of a good mother in Israel, now 
ninety-two years of age. Had a delightful 
season with the old pilgrim, and. felt that I 
was standing by one who would soon stand 
near the throne of God. The snow was 
very deep and the road much obstructed, 
but the Lord made a way for us, and 
we felt his love burning in our hearts. 
To-day (Sabbath) was feeble in mind in the 
sanctuary, but at our evening conference, 
had unusual freedom, though I hesitated 
about going, for I felt as if I could not say 
a word. I hope I shall not mistrust my 
God again. Was much comforted w T hen I 
returned from meeting in opening the Bible, 
and accidently casting my eye on Jeremiah 
i. 4-9. 

" February ith. My heart was cheered 
to-day, by a proposal from one of my 
scholars, to have those who had lately be- 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 1 1 *> 

come interested in the subject of religion, 
hold a meeting for prayer during the inter- 
mission at noon. They held one after the 
exercises this afternoon. The Lord grant 
that they may be long continued. Have 
enjoyed a blessed season this evening in 
closet devotion, and think I have felt in 
some measure that there is nothing worth 
living for but Christ, and nothing true but 
Heaven. O, that I might always feel thus. 

" February 1th. Finished this evening a 
fresh perusal of the Life of Harlan Page. O, 
how much he was permitted to do for God ! 
And why may not I do as much ? I almost 
shudder as I ask myself the question, and 
contrast my sinful life, with his humble 
walk with God, and my poor selfish efforts 
with his self-denying, sin-renouncing, God- 
glorifying labors. Why should I not lead 
such a life, and attain to such a communion 
with God \ O. my blessed Saviour, it is not 
because thou dost not draw me by the tender 
cords of thy love, but because I will not run 
after thee. 

" February loth. Have been reading to- 
night the Life of Mrs. Judson. One remark 
13 



146 MEMOIR. 

of hers particularly struck me. 'I have 
always found that full employment of time, 
and much retirement from company of every 
description, is the grand secret of living 
near to God.' 

" February 22d. The week just past has 
been one of great excitement, and I have 
mingled much with the world. I have 
proved the converse of the remark made by 
Mrs. Judson, which I penned one week ago, 
to be true ; that little employment of time, 
and frequent mingling with company of 
every description, is not the w r ay to live near 
to God. I long to be so devoted to the 
service of God, that mingling with the world, 
when I must, will not have such a tendency 
to make me forgetful of prayer and other 
religious duties. O Lord, while I am in 
the world, keep me from the evil of the 
world." 

Mr. Emerson found it improving to his 
own mind, as well as beneficial to others, to 
write dow 7 n his thoughts in the form of short 
• addresses, which he presented in substance, 
in the social prayer meetings. It was diffi- 
cult for him to speak extempore, and yet he 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 



147 



had a Btrong desire to do his part towards 
rendering the social meeting interesting and 
profitable. 

Several of these loose papers, as he termed 
them, are preserved, from which w r e select 
the following : — 

" The Path of the Just, as the Shining Light 

" ' The path of the just is as the shining 
light that shineth more and more unto the 
perfect day.' I have been struck with the 
many points of resemblance between the 
true Christian and the ' shining light,' and 
will notice some of them. The Christian 
and the 'shining light' may be compared 
together in the beginning of their course. 
The rising of the one has been preceded by 
a night of darkness and gloom. But, anon, 
a faint streak is discerned in the eastern 
horizon ; it is the harbinger of approaching 
day. And, lo ! the morning cometh. The 
bright 'King of Day' makes his appear- 
ance over the eastern hills, gladdening the 
face of the earth, and drinking up the dew 
which has collected during the darkness. 
So is it with the Christian. His conversion 



148 MEMOIR. 

succeeds a long, dark night of sin. But the 
1 Sun of Righteousness ' rises in his heart, 
chases away that darkness, drinks up the 
tears of penitence which have begun to fall, 
and imparts joy and gladness. 

" The Christian and the c shining light ' 
may be compared together in their progress. 
The sun does not stay on the eastern hills, 
but mounts up, and up, and up, the blue 
pathway of the sky. So the light, joy, 
peace, and love, which the Christian experi- 
ences, at the beginning of his course, are 
but a foretaste of what he shall enjoy here- 
after. The little rills of peace and comfort, 
which now 7 trickle into his soul, shall increase 
until they swell to a deep, broad river. His 
light ' shineth more and more unto the per- 
fect day.' 

" The Christian and the ' shining light ' 
may be compared together in the joy which 
each imparts at its approach. Animate and 
inanimate Nature rejoices at the approach of 
the sun. The birds herald his coming. The 
fields and woods delight to bathe themselves 
in sunshine ; the beasts show signs of glad- 
ness, and man goeth forth to his labor, and 



RESIDENCE JN CONWAY. 149 

exclaims, c O, Lord, how manifold are thy 
works; in wisdom hast thou made them all; 
the earth is full of thy goodness.' 

" So is it at the approach of the truly good 
man. Prattling childhood runs out to meet 
him and receive his benediction. Vigorous 
manhood suspends its labor to do him rever- 
ence as he passed, and old age totters up to 
ask his blessing, and receive his cheering 
smile. 

"Again; the Christian and the 'shining 
light' may be compared in their diffusive 
benevolence. The sun shines with equal 
warmth upon the ' gold-clad emperor of the 
palace, and the rag-clad beggar of the ditch.' 
It sheds a flood of glory into the spacious 
banqueting hall, whose inmates ' are clothed 
in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptu- 
ously every day,' and darts a beam of light 
into the dark, under-ground hovel, where 
hollow-eyed want and gaunt famine reign 
triumphant. Here goes out a sower with a 
full seed-basket, scatters abroad its contents 
with a lavish hand, and there comes the 
poor man, casting in here and there of his 
small portion ; and the same sun shines upon 
13* 



150 MEMOIR. 

it with its warming and vivifying beams, 
causing it to spring up and grow, and in due 
time they both ' shout the abundant harvest 
home.' 

" Now take the devoted Christian. He has 
a look of love, a smile of joy, and a tear of 
sympathy for all. Are any rejoicing in the 
abundant goodness of God, manifested to- 
wards them] He rejoices also. Are any 
bowed down by deep and severe affliction % 
In all their afflictions he is afflicted. Are 
any drawing near to ' the dark valley of the 
shadow of death V He hastens to the bed- 
side of the sufferer, holds out the consolations 
afforded by the gospel, whispers words of 
Christian kindness into the ears of the 
mourning friends, wipes the cold death-damp 
from the brow of the sufferer, closes the 
glazed eye, and hands the departing spirit 
gently over to the angels who have come 
to bear it home. 

• "Once more; the Christian and the 'shin- 
ing light' may be compared together in 
their departure. TTe have a sure belief 
that we shall see them again. Suppose it 
wore announced to-night that the glorious 



RESIDENCE TN CONWAY. 



151 



sun would set for the last time, and we 
should behold his bright disk no more for- 
ever. How should we assemble on all these 
hills to watch his decline, and run from 
peak to peak, to catch his last lingering 
rays ; and when the latest one had faded into 
darkness, with what bursting sorrow should 
we grope our way to our homes in the dark- 
ness, never more to be cheered by the blessed 
light and warmth which had heretofore been 
to us almost as life itself! But far otherwise 
is the case. Even if we see the sun go down 
behind the darkened w r est, we expect to see 
it re-appear on the coming day, clothed in 
new beauty, Q rejoicing like a strong man to 
run a race.' How inconsolable, too, would 
be our grief, if, when standing in ' the cham- 
ber where the good man meets his fate,' 
we should feel that he was about to pass 
away forever from our sight. But we 
mourn not, as those that have no hope. 
We are assured that our brother shall live 
again. We know that he is only putting 
off this corruptible, in order that he may 
put on incorruption. We know that there 
is a natural body that waxeth old and van- 



152 MEMOIR. 

isheth away, while we know, also, that there 
is a spiritual body that never fadeth. ' They 
come not up,' says one who went down in 
the freshness of life's morning, to the damp- 
ness of the tomb, ' they come not up in the 
great day, rusty and time-worn, from their 
tabernacles of clay, or congealed and drip- 
ping from their cold, dark bed in the ocean. 
Blessed be God ; there is a spiritual body.' 
As the sun in his going down, gives, of his 
glorious return, a sure pledge, so the right- 
eous, in his death, gives promise that he shall 
live again." 

" Growth in Grace. 

" We are commanded to ' grow in grace, 
and in the knowledge of our Lord and 
Saviour Jesus Christ.' How few of us there 
are who give the command any attention ; 
how many who do not bestow on it a passing 
thought. Are we not too apt to feel that* 
we 'have already attained, or are already 
perfect,' when we come out and publicly 
profess ourselves on the Lord's side ; and are 
we not satisfied if we thenceforward keep 
ourselves from the reproach of the world, 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 



ir>?> 



and avoid bringing dishonor on our profes- 
sion ? But is this growing in grace % Is this 
advancing in the divine life ? Let us apply 
the test elsewhere. Would you call the 
product of that field valuable, in which the 
seed planted, should spring up far enough 
to show that it had been planted, and then 
uninfluenced, alike by the genial sunbeam 
and the refreshing shower, cease to grow ? 
Would you deem that tree valuable, which, 
though it blossomed, year after year, never 
brought forth fruit to perfection ? Would you 
deem that man wise in worldly matters, who, 
when he might be constantly adding to his 
wealth, should consent to live, possessed of 
barely enough to keep him from starvation ? 
Would a parent send his son, day after day, 
and week after week, to school, if he found 
that he was making no progress in know- 
ledge % O no ! You call your harvest val- 
uable, only when there has appeared, c first, 
the blade ; then the ear ; then the full corn 
in the ear.' You call only that tree good 
which, after the glory of its blossoming is 
over, daily continues to show its enlarged 
fruit, until it is weighed to the earth with 



154 



MEMOIR. 



its goodly burden. You call that man worldly- 
wise, who leaves no measure untried, nor 
stone unturned, to add to the w r ealth he 
already possesses. You retain your child at 
school, that he may increase in knowledge, 
and become better fitted for the active duties 
of life. But how much the reverse of this is 
the Christian life. How many that do no 
more than blossom here. ' A very few (praised 
be God,) grow in grace ; become ripe, and 
bear mellow fruit, that is constantly ready to 
be plucked, by the ow T ner of the vineyard. 
But the great majority of the church blos- 
som, yet bring forth no fruit. You see them 
every two months, at the communion table, 
and here they may be said to blossom, for 
here they show to the world their profession. 
But they go away and return only to blos- 
som again. Or if they do bear some fruit, 
so knotty and deformed is its appearance, so 
sour and crabbed to the taste, that it is not 
worth the plucking, and then it clings so to 
the tree, on which it grew, and to the stem, 
which supports it, that it would seem far 
better to let it perish, in its deformity, than to 
attempt to gather it in with the good fruit. 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 155 

" My brethren, in the figure which I have 
used, I have too nearly described my own 
case. Have I not described yours ! And if 
so, is it right that we should be in such a 
condition ] Since, in matters of the lowest 
importance, we deem the law of progress to 
be essential, why should it not apply also 
to matters of infinite moment? If, then, 
our condition is such as I have described, 
ought we not to be awake to it ? Could 
we occupy a fixed position, our condition 
might be less dangerous. But it is a fear- 
ful thought, that this cannot be. If we are 
not growing in grace, then we are retro- 
grading, for Christ says, 'He that is not 
with me is against me,' and it cannot be that 
we are with Christ, unless we are constantly 
growing like him. If, now, we are convinced 
of the importance of growing in grace, the 
question comes, How shall we ? Surely not 
by inactivity, for we have just seen that in- 
activity works out no good, but only its 
destruction. Can we grow in grace, by re- 
solving to grow in grace 1 What would you 
think of an army of men, that came to batter 
down the walls of a city, and should spend 



156 



MEMOIR. 



their whole time in making huge engines to 
break down the ramparts, and yet never ad- 
vance to make use of them? Yet this 
is just the case with some Christians. They 
spend all their time in making resolutions, 
and most powerful resolutions they make ; 
enough, if only put in execution, to make 
great havoc with their sins, and push them- 
selves far onward in the Christian course. But 
they make no use of them; they only treasure 
them up, and, 1 very much fear, that, at the 
Judgment, some w T ill have nothing to offer, 
but a storehouse of good resolutions, laid 
up while on earth, any one of which, if put 
to its proper use, might have been of signal 
service to them in their journey heavenward. 
The growing Christian does not stop to make 
many resolutions. He breaks down a great 
deal of the wall, w 7 ith very small engines, 
and for the simple reason that he keeps con- 
stantly at work. My brethren, we have no 
time to spend in sharpening our weapons. 
They must be kept in order by constant use. 
We cannot always stop to polish our arrows, 
and make them ready upon the string. We 
must often twang the bow r , and shoot at a 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 157 

venture. It may be that some one of the 
king's enemies will be smitten. Up, then, 
and be doing. Depending on the promised 
strength of Jehovah, the most feeble need 
not fear." 

" The Rainbow round the Throne. 

fc - In that glowing description, given by 
John, of the view which he was permitted 
to take, of the glories of the upper world, 
he makes use of this expression — ' There 
was a rainbow round about the throne.' 
Why, we may be permitted to ask, should 
the rainbow be chosen above all other 
things to mark the place where the ' Ancient 
of Days' sits enthroned? What peculiar 
significance in the rainbow ? Has it a deep 
meaning which nothing else possesses ? 
Does it contain a language that will make 
the throne eloquent when all beside is dumb ? 
Why not have a sun, all radiant with celestial 
light ? Why not have a moon, girt about 
with the silvery-shining, ' trailing garments 
of the night?' Why not have one of those 
bright, beautiful stars, ' first in night's dia- 
dem?' Will none of these answer? No, 
14 



158 MEMOIR. 

says John, ' There was a rainbow round 
about the throne.' Do you recollect the 
account recorded in the Scriptures, of the 
time when God poured out the floods of 
his wrath upon a guilty world, and swept 
off all its inhabitants, save the chosen eight, 
who, seated in the ark which they had built, 
by divine command, rose as high towards 
Heaven, as the haters of God sank beneath 
his frown ? And do you remember, when 
the waters had subsided, and the ark rested 
on Mount Ararat, that the Almighty stood 
by Noah, as he stepped forth on dry land, 
and lifting his finger towards the retreating 
clouds, on which the sun had again broke 
forth, said, ' Behold my bow ! I have set it 
in the cloud ; it shall be for a token of a 
covenant between me and thee ! ' Here, 
then, is its deep significance made manifest ; 
here its hidden mystery declared. In this 
consists its wondrous fitness for the place it 
occupies ; it is a token of the covenant be- 
tween God and man. Bright token ! Who 
does not love to gaze upon it ? Who has 
not seen, on some fair summer's morn, the 
dark clouds rearing their caps in the western 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 159 

horizon, and heard the muttering of the 
distant thunder, and noted the gleam of the 
lightning, and watched the dense masses as 
they rolled up in awful majesty, obscuring 
the light of the sun, and shrouding the 
earth in funereal gloom] And when the 
tempest swept by in its wrath, threatening 
to repeat the desolation of the old world, 
have you not remembered the token of the 
covenant, and felt sure that that bright 
token would soon be hung out in heaven ? 
And was it not so % When the storm had 
gone over your head, did you not see, span- 
ning its dark brow, the bright, the beautiful, 
the seven-colored bow of promise? Was 
there not a rainbow round about the cloud 1 
And is it not a fitting emblem for Jehovah 
to throw around his throne? Shall w T e 
not do well to gaze upon it and study its 
meaning, and read its language ? Especially 
would the Christian do w r ell to take heed to 
it ; for it is to him a token of a Father's 
care, a Father's love, a Father's undying 
remembrance. 

"Doubting Christian, it has a language 
for thee. Are you sometimes almost led to 



100 



MEMOIR. 



believe that the promises of God will fail of 
their fulfillment, and that he has forgotten 
to be gracious X Behold that bow ! It is a 
token of his unfailing love, and assures you 
that though a woman may forget her first- 
born, yet He cannot be forgetful or unmind- 
ful of thee. Tempted Christian, have the 
allurements of an insnaring world, and the 
temptations of the great adversary at times 
almost obtained the victory'? Eemember 
the token. The Evil One shall not gain the 
advantage, for the Lord knoweth how to 
deliver those that are tempted. 

" Afflicted Christian, have ; all the waves 
and the billows of the Almighty gone over 
you,' and have you been compelled, in the 
bitterness of blasted hopes, to exclaim, 
c Lover and friend hast thou put far from 
me, and mine acquaintance into darkness ? ' 
O, can you not see woven into the bright 
colors that compose that bow the glorious 
promise of your Lord, ' When thou passest 
through the waters, I will be with thee, and 
through the floods, they shall not overflow 
thee?' 

" Dying Christian, we have no need to tell 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 161 

you that there is a rainbow round about the 
throne. How gorgeous its colors, and dis- 
tinct its outline, as you near the pearly gates 
of the celestial city ! But when you have 
arrived there — behold ! it ' melts away into 
the light of heaven.' For, what need of the 
token, when he who gave it has made him- 
self to stand in its place, and has taken you 
to be forever in his blissful presence ? " 

" He is joined to his Idols ; let him alone. 

" There are, doubtless, many persons who 
have sinned away their day of grace, and 
against whom that terrible edict has gone 
forth, ' He is joined to his idols ; let him 
alone.' There is a point beyond which the 
long-suffering patience of God will not go ; 
there is a time when his mercy is clean gone 
forever, and when he will be favorable no 
more. The Spirit of God strives long, but 
will not strive always, with men. The 
promises and threatenings of the w 7 ord of 
God may for many years address themselves 
to the conscience, but there is a time when 
they will 'neither melt, or move.' There is 
such a thing as being given up of God, left 
14* 



162 MEMOIR. 

to hardness of heart and blindness of mind, 
never more to be visited by the Spirit, never 
more to have any concern for the never- 
dying soul ; sinking into that deep, uncon- 
scious sleep, from which it is impossible to 
be aroused, until the ' worm that never dies, 
and the fire that never is quenched,' have 
begun to prey upon the soul. In what aw- 
ful language does the Scripture clothe itself, 
when speaking upon this point % ' Because 
I have called, and ye refused, I have 
stretched out my hand, and no man re- 
garded; but ye have set at naught all my 
counsel, and would none of my reproof; 
I also will laugh at your calamity ; I 
will mock when your fear cometh.' This 
state of mind is induced by continually re- 
sisting the strivings of God's spirit ; by lull- 
ing the voice of conscience ; by running 
into temptation ; by efforts to put to sleep 
the convictions, attendant upon the faithful 
ministrations of the sanctuary; by restrain- 
ing prayer ; by putting off to a more conve- 
nient season the thoughts of death, the judg- 
ment and eternity. It is not a state of mind 
peculiar to those who dwell in the darkness 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 163 

of heathenism, or to those who have heen 
nourished in the midst of crime and infidel- 
ity. If it is peculiar to any, it is to those 
Avho have heen brought up under the sound 
of gospel truth, who have lived in the full 
blaze of gospel light, who have had line upon 
line, counsel upon counsel, warning upon 
warning, and that Sabbath after Sabbath, year 
after year. But all have been disregarded, 
or put off to that fatal period — to-morrow. 
And now the man has been given over to 
destruction, and in reference to him it may be 
truly said, ' There remaineth no more sacrifice 
for sin.' O, if there is one of God's creatures 
upon whom it is heart-rending to look, surely 
it is that person who has sinned away his day 
of probation ; who is permitted to continue a 
little longer on the earth, and yet dead — a 
corpse among living men. How it would 
surprise us to see one of those forms which 
we have lately deposited in yonder grave-yard, 
suddenly start up, endowed with the power 
of motion alone, and going forth among us ! 
How frightful to know that the principle of 
life would never enter it again, and yet it 
is walking by our side in the street, sitting 



164 MEMOIR. 

down at our tables, and touching with its 
skeleton hand, but not tasting the food we 
have prepared, and lying down by our side 
at night. How terrible to see the flesh 
dropping daily from its bones, and to know 
that it would never be clothed anew, and 
that no breath of the Lord would ever 
breathe upon it again. But just such is 
the condition of the person we are de- 
scribing. The silver cord that bound the 
soul to a Redeemer's love has been loosed, 
the golden bowl of salvation has been bro- 
ken, and yet by a mysterious providence he 
is permitted to stand a little longer a monu- 
ment of the divine displeasure — a cum- 
berer of the ground — a tree riven with the 
red thunderbolt, waiting only to be cut 
down, and burnt with devouring fire. No- 
thing now will, or can, affect him. So often 
has he been pierced by the sword of the 
Spirit, that there is left no place where a 
wound can be inflicted ; you may preach to 
him the most alarming discourse, and it will 
not move him ; you may set before him the 
glorious hopes and promises of the gospel, 
or you may array the awful threatenings 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 165 

and denunciations of the Almighty before 
him, and he will still be unaffected. The 
pestilence that walketh in darkness, and the 
destruction that wasteth at noon-day, have 
no terrors for him. A thousand may fall at 
his side, and ten thousand at his right 
hand; but no tear of penitence moistens 
his eye. The thunders of Sinai peal over 
his head, but he hears them not ; the light- 
nings of divine wrath flash full in his face, 
but he sees them not; the smoke of the bot- 
tomless pit rolls up, and wreathes its thick 
volumes around him, but he heeds it not; 
he waits only for death, to come and assign 
him his portion in a world of despair." 

" Fast^for the Descent of the Spirit 

" One of the most interesting and fervent 
prayers which is recorded in the word of 
God, is that put up by Habakkuk, the 
prophet. ' O Lord,' he says, ' revive thy 
work in the midst of the years, in the midst 
of the years make known; in wrath, re- 
member mercy.' Who that has ever read 
this prayer, can doubt that it was offered up 



166 MEMOIR. 

with ' strong crying and tears/ with a deep 
sense of the need of the blessing which was 
sought; with a strong feeling of depen- 
dence, with humble boldness, and w T ith an 
earnest expectation of a speedy answer? 
How appropriately might the prophet offer 
up his prayer, if he were present with us 
to-day, and how agonizing his supplication 
would be, could he look abroad on the desola- 
tions of our Zion. But he sleeps with his 
fathers, and who is there to stand up for him, 
and using his language, to cry with his faith, 
' O Lord, revive thy w r ork ? ' 

% ' Let us consider some of the reasons why 
this prayer is so peculiarly applicable to us 
on the present occasion, and why the ear- 
nest expression of the prophet should be 
used at this time by every member of this 
church. First, on account of the apathy 
manifested by most professing Christians in 
the cause of Christ. "We may not have 
committed outbreaking sins ; w T e may not 
have run riot, like others, and been guilty 
of all manner of excess ; on the contrary, 
we may have seemed to our fellow-disciples 
to be ' growing in grace,' and to the impeni- 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 1G7 

tent to be consistent, devoted men. But let 
us come closer home than this. What say 
our consciences in regard to some known, 
well-beloved sin \ Has it been indulged, 
when no eye saw us, no ear heard us, and no 
lips reproached us ? Ah ! is not the name of 
our sins Legion, and have we not occasion to 
say, as they rise up before us, ; I do remem- 
ber my faults this day ? ' What say our 
closets'? O, could the walls of that neg- 
lected spot speak out, would they not cry 
against us % Would they not exclaim, in 
regard to day after day, and perhaps of week 
after week — deserted — deserted ? Would 
they not bear witness to lukewarm peti- 
tions, to longings after earthly good, to an 
earnest desire to depart, and be not with 
Christ, but with the world] What says 
our seat in the social prayer meeting ? Va- 
cant — vacant ; or, if there, spell-bound, 
tongue-tied, ashamed to say a word for our 
Master, for fear, perhaps, that we had not a 
gift to speak, or for some other equally friv- 
olous reason. What say our impenitent 
neighbors and friends ] One says to a pro- 
fessor, he seems to be confident that he has 



1G8 MEMOIR. 

found ' a pearl of great price,' but lie never 
invited me to share it with him. I hear him 
tell at times of the danger of continuing in 
sin, but he never warned me to flee from that 
danger. Do not these things testify to our 
si mine, and is there not abundant need, in 
view of them, to put up the prayer, ' O 
Lord, revive thy work % ' Again ; this 
prayer is needed, because few come up to 
Zion's solemn feasts. Every day is dimin- 
ishing the numbers in the ranks of the 
sacramental host of God's elect, and none 
are found to fill their places. The standard- 
bearers in Zion's army begin to faint, and 
no one is ready to relieve them. What 
means the astounding fact, that the deaths 
and dismissions in the Congregational 
churches, in this State, have exceeded, by 
several hundreds, the additions to them, 
during the past year ? O, is not this fact a 
loud call upon us to put up the united prayer, 
' O Lord, revive thy work X ' 

" We need to offer this petition, because 
precious souls are daily going down to eter- 
nal death. Those with whom we take counsel 
from day to day, with whom we walk and 



RESIDENCE IN CONU AV. 



169 



converse, and arc on terms of the closest 
intimacy, are among the number of those 
whose ' steps take hold on hell.' And with- 
out the converting influences of God's holy 
spirit, they must forever perish. Can we 
see and know this, and yet remain un- 
affected 1 Can we delay another hour cry- 
ing out, in the earnestness of one who will 
take no denial, ' O Lord, revive thy work 1 ' 
Once more ; we need to offer up this prayer 
because ' Now is our salvation nearer than 
when we believed.' Brethren, every day is 
carrying us onward towards our heavenly 
home. Do we realize this ? Do we believe 
that the ' beatific vision ' shall soon break in 
upon us; that the songs of the redeemed 
shall soon strike upon our ears ; that we 
shall, ere long, be of that white-robed com- 
pany that ; follow the Lamb whithersoever 
he goeth X ' And have we done all that we 
could wish to do before that time arrives ? 
Then call mightily upon God. Like the 
voice of a trumpet, waxing louder and 
louder, put up the earnest, believing prayer, 
' O Lord, revive thy work ! ' " 
15 



170 



MEMOIR. 



" Building on the Sand. 

"Matthew, vii : 24-27. Poor, foolish 
man ! How unwise to make the sand a foun- 
dation for his house, when there was a rock 
close by. Suppose that I had been the person 
who, on a calm summer's day, was proceed- 
ing to put up a house on the seashore, just 
out of the reach of the present swell of the 
waters, and with no other foundation than 
the ever shifting sands. You come to me 
and accost me in this manner : s My friend, 
do you not know that you are making work 
for repentance] Have you not considered, 
that however securely your building may 
stand to-day, while the breezes blow gently, 
and the surface of the sea is unruffled, that 
there will be a time when the winds of 
heaven shall be let loose upon these waters, 
and they shall lift up their mad waves, beat 
against your dwelling, and the treacher- 
ous sand slip away from beneath it, and 
destruction come upon your house and its 
inhabitants'? And suppose I should reply 
to you, O, do not be alarmed ! I appre- 
hend no danger. I see no storm gathering 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 171 

in the horizon. I know no reason why to- 
morrow should not be as pleasant as to-day. 
Do you not see what a delightful situa- 
tion I have chosen ] I can look out on the 
blue sea, and feel its cool breezes, and at my 
own door can dip my feet in its refreshing 
tide. Or suppose I should reply, — O, I 
mean to remove my dwelling from this place 
before a storm comes on. I don't mean to 
have it endangered by remaining here, for 
by and by, I shall remove it. Or, I should 
say, — Well, let it remain during one storm, 
and the strength of the building be tested, 
and if I find it is too much for it, before 
another storm comes on, I will remove it to 
a more suitable place. Or, again, suppose I 
should say — Talk not to me, I care not 
for storms and raging waters. Let them come 
if they will, and if my house stands, let it 
stand ; if it perishes, let it perish, and I will 
perish with it. Would you not call me a 
fool or a madman, for replying to you thus ? 
Would you not think me a fit person to be 
put under guard ] 

" But, my dying friend, you may have an- 
ticipated me when I say to you, that you 



172 MEMOIR. 

have been making the same replies during the 
past week to a heavenly Friend, who has been 
expostulating with you for pursuing the same 
foolish course. You have been continuing to 
build a house which you commenced many 
years ago, on the sands of this world, viz., 
its riches, or honors, or pleasures. And I tell 
you, it is an insecure foundation; for be- 
hind it roll the dark waters of death, which, 
though they may seem to sleep quietly to- 
day, may to-morrow rise suddenly and over- 
whelm you. Many have been thus overtaken, 
and that without remedy. Sometimes the 
waters give warning of their approach, and 
roll heavily before their arrival. But alas ! 
too often they send up a sudden wave, which 
in an instant brings swift destruction. But 
yonder there is a rock that lifts its head 
majestically above the waves of that billowy 
sea. Upon it are clustered a few humble 
dwellings, built in a cleft that was made in 
it eighteen hundred years ago. The furious 
waters have roared against it, the stormy 
winds have beat upon it, but it never has 
moved, and it never will move. No house of 
refuge built upon it has ever been swept away. 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 173 

Sinner, it is the Rock, Christ Jesus. To- 
day you may build upon it, and be secure ; 
to-morrow your cries may be going up from 
the midst of those cold, dark waters, that 
dash their raging waves against the impreg- 
nable sides of this everlasting Rock." 

The following was written for a Sabbath 
School Address, and illustrates Mr. Emer- 
son's happy manner of arresting the atten- 
tion of the young : ■ — 

"The Gospel Rope. 

" The Word of God declares that we are 
saved by grace through faith. All the mem- 
bers of this school know that they are sin- 
ners, and all know also of the way of escape 
which has been provided for man from 
the punishment of his sins. Yet perhaps 
all do not see why they should make any 
effort to find this way of escape, and flee 
from the wrath to come. This is the point 
which I will attempt to illustrate to-day, and 
I will do it by a figure. This life may be 
represented as a vast and shoreless ocean, on 
which all men are cast, destitute of any 
means of escape from the fury of its raging 
15* 



174 



MEMOIR. 



waters. It is plain that these persons cannot 
help one another, for all are in the same 
condition. They must have help from ano- 
ther quarter. God appears for them, and 
sends his Son to aid them. Now, the help 
which he affords I shall liken to a great 
rope, which we will call the gospel rope, 
let down from heaven upon this ocean, and 
to the end of this rope are fastened just as 
many cords as there are human beings 
floating on this ocean of life, and to each 
one of them one of the cords is thrown. 
Now all of you will understand that the 
mere throwing of the cord towards the per- 
son will not save him. If you were falling 
from a precipice, and should happen to see 
a twig to which, if you clung, you firmly 
believe you would be saved, would your belief 
save you % O, no ! you would grasp the twig 
with all your might, and your belief, to- 
gether with the hold which you took of the 
twig, would save you from going over the 
precipice. Just so must you lay hold of the 
cord thrown you from the gospel rope, and 
if you do not thus lay hold of it, it might 
as well never have been thrown to you, for 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 17.*) 

your mere belief that it will save you will 
never release you from your perilous con- 
dition. 

" This grasping the rope is the act of faith. 
Here you see the difference between belief 
and faith. I suppose every member of this 
school believes that there is a God, a heaven, 
a hell, and that Christ has died for sinners. 
But this belief will not brim? you to heaven. 
You must exercise faith, or, in the words I 
used before, you must lay hold of the rope. 
You perceive that although Christ has 
died to save you from sin, you will not be 
saved without an effort on your part. By 
the exercise of faith, or the grasping of the 
rope, is meant — doing all that God requires 
us — loving him — keeping his command- 
ments, setting a holy example, &c. At the 
Judgment this gospel rope, with all who 
have fastened themselves to its cords, will be 
drawn up into heaven, and it is a fearful 
thought that there will be a great many 
loose cords to which no person is attached. 
There were cords enough for all, but very 
many, like some of you, I fear, rest satisfied 
with the belief, that the rope will save them 



176 



MEMOIR. 



without their seizing it with the grasp of faith, 
and thus they will perish in their sins. Now 
there are many ropes besides the gospel rope 
let down upon this ocean, all of which have 
cords attached to them : but they differ from 
it in this respect. The gospel rope alone reach- 
es up to heaven ; the others are men's contri- 
vances, and by no means reach to heaven. 

" Let me illustrate what I mean. The 
Roman Catholic religion is one of these 
ropes to which I refer ; and a splendid rope 
it is, made of beautiful materials and various 
colors, and to the end of it are fastened cords 
of gold and silver to attract the gaze of 
men. The contrivers of this rope, or the 
authors of this false religion, being crafty 
men, have fastened this rope to something 
out of the sight of those whom they deceive, 
and they induce multitudes to believe that 
their rope, like the gospel rope, extends up 
into heaven ; and multitudes are deceived by 
it and die clinging to this rope, multitudes 
that will wake up to a sense of their danger, 
only when this earth and all that is therein, 
including that to which this rope is attached, 
shall be burned up. Having secured no 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 177 

hold upon the gospel rope, which alone will 
be drawn up into heaven, they must forever 
perish, Those who believe that all men will 
finally be saved have another of these ropes 
to which a vast crowd attach themselves. 
They tell us that their rope is attached to 
the mercy of God ; that God is such a 
merciful being that he will not certainly 
punish any of his creatures ; but they for- 
get, that our God is a just God, that he 
loves justice as well as mercy, and that he 
will by no means clear the guilty, unless 
they have faith in the precious atonement 
made by his Son. The gospel rope is sus- 
pended just half way between the justice 
and mercy of God, which attributes are like 
scales in even balance. When man first 
sinned, had God's mercy been his darling 
attribute, as some would make us believe, he 
would have let down that scale, and received 
guilty man into it and drawn him up to 
heaven by his own power, without throwing 
an equal weight into the opposite scale. 
But no ! He loved justice as well as mercy, 
and as justice could not be satisfied without 
a great sacrifice, he gave his only son Jesus, 



178 



MEMOIR. 



who stepped into the other scale and made 
the even balance, and now God can be just 
and yet the justifier of him that believeth in 
Jesus. 

Some of you may be disposed to ask — 
Since there are so many ropes thrown out 
upon this ocean, how shall we know the true 
from the false % how shall we know when we 
have seized hold of the right rope 1 I will tell 
you. To every one of the cords thrown out 
from the gospel rope, there is attached the 
sacred word of God, just as it came from his 
hands, every sentence, word, and letter re- 
maining unaltered. You will find this on none 
of the other ropes. On some you will find the 
Koran, a false Bible ; on others a mutilated 
portion of the true Bible : but on none ex- 
cept this will you find the pure word of 
God. This must be the mark by which you 
determine the true from the false. Who of 
you will now grasp the gospel rope ? Who 
will do the only thing which God requires 
in addition to what he has done, for your 
salvation ? Or who will choose to neglect to 
do that which may now be done so easily, 
and perhaps perish by reason of their folly ? 



RESIDENCE IN CONWAY. 170 

1 Be wise to-day ; 'tis madness, 'tis worse than madness to 
defer.' " 

Mr. Emerson after fulfilling his engage- 
ments at Conway, removed to Springfield, 
Vermont, where he resided a few months. 
While there he wrote a letter to his Sabbath 
School Teacher, Mr. Morse, from whicli we 
make the following extracts : — 

" Springfield, Vt., April 21st, 1816. 

", Ever dear Friend, — What a world of 
change we inhabit. Pilgrims and strangers 
we are indeed. ' O that I had wings like a 
dove ! ' then would I fly home. I am weary 
of this roving life — this putting a new name 
every year or two to my letters. It seems 
not to bring me any nearer to that profession 
to which I believe I have given myself for 
life. From the bottom of my heart I long to 
see you. I never wanted to see you more in 
my life. I feel as if I was almost out of the 
world, and I am at times very homesick and 
very lonely ; but I know the weeks will pass 
away, and I shall soon be where I love 
to be. I think six years of absence have not 
diminished my love for my dear native place 
and the beloved friends who dwell there. 



ISO MEMOIR. 

" Religion here is at a very low ebb, and 
you know I have just come from a church 
which has passed through an interesting 
revival of religion, and the change is very 
great I feel something like a ship that 
has passed from the waters of the torrid 
zone into a colder region; the frost and the 
icebergs which surround her causing the 
very element through which she had just 
been sailing so smoothly to cling in huge 
masses to her deck and sides, and weigh- 
ing her down with its uncomfortable bur- 
den. And yet I know that I am in fault 
for this, for there should be enough of 
warmth in me to keep off these frozen in- 
cumbrances from myself, and even to melt 
down the icebergs that float in my way. But 
I have hardly enough heat left in me to keep 
from being locked up myself in impene- 
trable walls of ice, from which there would 
seem to be little hope of deliverance. There 
is a nearness to God to which I have not as 
yet attained. I do not say that I shall 
attain unto it, but I know that I do in some 
measure desire it." 



CHAPTER V. 

HIS CONNECTION WITH PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL 
SEMINARY. 1846 - 1849. 

The time had now arrived for Mr. Emer- 
son to enter upon the last stage of his disci- 
plinary course, preparatory to the work of 
the ministry. His views respecting the im- 
portance of a thorough preparation of mind 
and heart for this sacred profession, were 
very clear and correct. Especially at the 
present day, when so much is required of 
the minister of the gospel in the various de- 
partments of philanthropic effort, Christian 
benevolence, and literary and scientific re- 
search, he felt that it was only by great dili- 
gence and labor, that he could be qualified 
for so responsible a station. 

Those who imagine that the life of a theo- 
logical student is one of indolence or ease, 
or that there is any inherent power in a 
16 



1S2 MEMOIR. 

Seminary to fit him for his profession, inde- 
pendent of personal toil, are greatly mis- 
taken. 

The science of theology itself is sufficient 
to tax the student's powers to their utmost, 
and well may he exclaim, as he looks over 
the field of theological truth, " Who is suffi- 
cient for these things'? " But there are many 
other branches which he must master. He 
must, in order to gain influence, be familiar 
with the literature of the day. He must 
keep up with the progress of scientific dis- 
covery. He must be able to meet the most 
subtle forms of scepticism, and be well sup- 
plied with weapons with which to " defend 
the faith once delivered to the saints." 

The importance of this latter point cannot 
be too deeply felt by the candidate for the 
gospel ministry. Allusion was made to it 
by the writer in his discourse delivered at 
the ordination of Mr. Emerson, in the follow- 
ing language : 

" It is obvious, that to fight the battle 
before us, we need the most effectual wea- 
pons — weapons drawn from the same ar- 
mory which has supplied our opponents; 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 



183 



we need to meet our foes upon their own 
ground — to follow them into all the secret 
retreats of scholastic lore, and show to them 
and to the world, that the truth for which 
we contend, rests upon a foundation which 
the combined forces of learning, sophistry, 
and rationalism, are unable to shake. And 
could we see in the ministry of this country 
the same spirit of research, and patient and 
laborious toil to defend the faith, that is 
manifested elsewhere to overthrow it, w r e 
should have little to fear from this new and 
subtle form of scepticism. » 

" In regard to the other phases of modern 
error, to which allusion has been made, we 
deem it an important part of the duty of 
the ministry, to be qualified to detect and 
bring to light this latent scepticism, what- 
ever garb it may assume. Though it comes 
to us clothed with all the authority of Ger- 
man erudition — though it is mingled with 
much that is good and true — though it 
assumes the mild form of a negative charac- 
ter, and expends its power in the easy task 
of denying — though it appears with the 
smiles and apparent benevolence of philan- 



184 MEMOIR. 

thropy, we would still have its pernicious 
influence exposed. "We would have the 
evangelical ministry strip infidelity of its 
soft and tinseled drapery, and bid it come 
forth. It was not until Satan had assumed 
the form of a beautiful serpent, and availed 
himself of a winning address and soft words, 
that he had power to do evil. It was not 
until Hume had diffused his scepticism 
through his philosophical speculations, that 
its destructive influence was felt. It was 
not until Gibbon had infused his poison 
into his history, and Voltaire his, into his 
poetry, that it found its way to the heart, 
the seat of life. Present to an enlightened 
and moral community, infidelity in its naked 
form, and it will at once be rejected, and 
spurned from their presence. But decorate 
it with the beauties of rhetoric, and mingle 
it w 7 ith valuable truths, and you clothe it 
with a mighty power. We have but little 
to fear from the grosser forms of infidelity 
and atheism. But we have much to fear 
from that latent, silently-working and re- 
fined infidelity, which accompanies the pro- 
ducts of genius, which suits itself to the 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 185 

intelligence and refinement of the age, which 
confounds evil with good, which calls hos- 
tility to sin a prejudice, which makes scepti- 
cism the result of profound investigations 
after truth, and which makes brilliancy of 
intellect more than compensate for the worst 
moral deformities. This is the infidelity that 
we would oppose. From the hands of its 
advocates w r e would wrest the Bible, and bid 
them no longer desecrate its sacred pages. 
Its cold philosophy we would spurn, as 
affording no rest for the soul, no remedy 
for the ills of life. Though its advocates, 
like their own creations of Satan, knock at 
the rotten part of the human heart, and de- 
mand admittance on the ground of their 
intellectual power, yet would we shun them 
as we would the slow, yet deadly grasp of 
the serpent," 

Mr. Emerson entered Princeton Theolog- 
ical Seminary August 27, 1846. His first 
impressions of his new residence are given in 
the following extracts from a letter, written 
the day after he was admitted to the Semi- 
nary. 

" Dear Parents, — Having been duly ad- 
16* 



186 



HEM01R. 



mitted a member of the Theological Semina- 
ry in this place, and having obtained a room, 
and considered myself settled for at least 
nine months, I sit down to fulfill my promise 
of writing you the full particulars of my 
journey, arrival, and reception among this 
people." 

After giving a minute account of his jour- 
ney, and his efforts to obtain a room, he 
adds : 

" Not knowing who the family were, I felt 
a little anxiety, the first night, about securi- 
ty ; but when I heard a psalm read in the 
other room, and the voice of prayer, I felt 
quite secure, and thought of the lines, — 
' Prayer can force a passage through iron 
bars and brazen gates.' From the windows 
of my room I can see distinctly the build- 
ings of Princeton College, or Nassau Hall as 
it is generally called, five in number, and all 
beautiful buildings. They are about half a 
mile from the Seminary. The Seminary 
building is a fine one of stone, and the pic- 
ture of it, with the large yard in front, is a 
good representation. The library building, 
in front of the Seminary, is one of the most 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 187 

beautiful I ever saw. It is purely of the 
Gothic order, with large stained windows, 
variegated marble floor, large apartments for 
books, and every thing in beautiful propor- 
tion. There are many fine residences in 
Princeton, with extensive and beautiful flow- 
er-gardens in front, and abundance of shrub- 
bery. I was agreeably disappointed in the 
town. It is quite a pleasant place, with 
broad streets and shops of all sorts on each 
side. Of course, I have not seen much of 
it yet The commons table is in the Semi- 
nary, and over one hundred students sit down 
at meals. Two of the senior class sit at the 
ends of the different tables to pour out tea and 
coffee, and help others to the meat. I think I 
shall like boarding there very much. There 
is a feeling of kindness among the students 
here which is very gratifying. It is not like 
college, where all seek their own. There are 
no class distinctions; all sit together, and 
walk and talk together, and you feel that 
every one is your friend. There are none of 
Paul, Apollos, or Cephas, but all seem to be 
of Christ. All are pious. They feel friendly 
towards the professors, who are just what 



18S 



MKM01R. 



they profess to be, and apparently just what 
they ought to be. They love the students, and 
the students honor them, and it is indeed a 
lovely seminary. Our class will number, 
I suppose, about fifty. 

" On Friday morning the students met to 
hear a general lecture from Dr. Miller. To- 
day (Saturday) our class met Dr. Alexander, 
Jr., to hear the plan of study for the yea]*. 
It will be threefold, viz. : Biblical History, 
Biblical Criticism, and the Hebrew language. 
We are to have Mr. Green, a graduate of the 
seminary, to instruct us for the present in 
Hebrew. We recite our first Hebrew lesson 
next Monday, at 11, A. M. Of the meetings 
of the students and recitations, &c, I, of 
course, shall write you more hereafter. 

" Sabbath-day \ Aug. 30?A. This is my first 
Sabbath in Princeton, and it has been a beau- 
tiful day. You will want to know something 
of the order of exercises. At 9 o'clock in 
the morning the students meet for prayer by 
colleges ; that is, the graduates of a college, 
meet as such, to pray for their own college. 
As Mr. T. was not here, we of Amherst did 
not meet to-day, but probably shall hereafter. 



RRSIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 189 

I think there are but four here from Amherst, 
and three of us have but just come. At eleven 
o'clock we assemble in the chapel for public 
worship. Dr. Alexander, senior, preached this 
morning a very able discourse. It is the cus- 
tom in all this region to have preaching morn- 
ing and evening, and none in the afternoon. 
The Sabbath school is usually held at that 
time. In place of preaching, we have at the 
seminary a very delightful exercise. All the 
students meet in a room, called the ' Ora- 
tory, 5 at half past three, with the professors, 
and hold familiar conversation on some topic 
given out on the previous Sabbath. All are 
invited to take part in it. The students 
first speak, and then the professors give their 
views. The topic to-day was 'The proper 
feelings to be cherished by students on com- 
mencing a new session of study.' Those 
w r ho speak remain seated, as if in a room 
conversing together. It was very pleasant 
to listen to the paternal counsel of the pro- 
fessors, and to notice the deep interest they 
seemed to take in our welfare. We are all 
candidates for the gospel ministry, and, as 
such, they addressed us. How different is 



190 



MEMOIR. 



this from college. There are none disor- 
derly here, no disturbance, all have one aim 
and one end in view, and that a holy one. 
The topic for next Sunday is, — ' Self-know- 
ledge ; its importance and the means of at- 
taining it.' In the evening the students 
attend church, if they choose, at Dr. Rice's. 
I shall go this evening. You perceive by the 
arrangement of our meetings, that I have 
ample time to meet you at noon, at a throne 
of grace. I took one o'clock to-day. This 
is most convenient, as it comes soon after 
dinner. I shall try always to improve it. It 
would gratify me much if our friends, Mr. and 
Mrs. M., could also join us at that hour. You 
know I need special prayer now. To-day, 
when my imagination went rapidly over 
the long distance that intervenes between 
us, and I thought of the dear parents and 
friends whom I love so much, and who love 
me so much, I longed to be with you. But I 
knew that duty and God were here, and 
here I hope to feel willing to stay my ap- 
pointed time." 

Soon after becoming settled, he made the 
following records in his journal : 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 191 

11 Princeton, New Jersey, August 30th, 1846. 

" In the good providence of God I am now 
a member of the Theological Seminary here, 
and this is my first Sabbath in this place. 
I desire to record God's goodness to-day in 
so signally preparing the way for me to come 
here and raising up so many friends for me. 
In the expectation of spending three years 
in this place, if God should spare my life, 
and looking back with regret on my mis- 
spent time and opportunities in college I 
desire before God to-day to make the two 
following resolutions which I pray God Al- 
mighty to enable me to keep. Resolved, 

" I. Never to neglect, while connected 
with this Institution, the duty of reading 
the Scriptures and of secret prayer morning 
and evening. 

" II. Xot to neglect one regular reci- 
tation or lecture when it is in my power to 
attend." 

" Sabbath, September 13th. I have now 
been here three Sabbaths, and God has been 
pleased to bless me with continued health 
and strength, and enabled me to commence 



192 



MEMOIR. 



with zeal the studies of this Institution. 
Thus far also I have been enabled to keep 
the resolutions which I made at the com- 
mencement of my course, and the Lord 
being my helper, I design still to keep 
them. I have been permitted to-day to go 
to the table of the Lord, and renew my 
covenant with him to be forever and entirely 
his. I desire to make record of the deed. I 
give myself to the Lord : I desire to be only 
his. O Lord ! make me what thou wouldst 
have me to be, and prepare me especially 
for the great and solemn work of the gospel 
ministry, to which I have devoted my life. 

" Sabbath, September 21th, 1846. Again 
has returned the anniversary of that day 
which I desire always to keep as a day of 
devout thanksgiving to God, for his past 
mercies, of unfeigned sorrow for sin, and 
humble supplication for mercies in time to 
come. It is the anniversary of my birth- 
day, lam now twenty-three years old. As 
I make this record from year to year, I know 
not that I shall ever be spared to make it 
again. But God yet keeps me in being, and 
shows forth his mercy towards me, though a 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 193 

rebel against him. I have just heard of the 
death of one of my classmates in Amherst 
college, who graduated in 1844 with much 
honor. I think he is the first of that class 
who has been called away since we left 
that Institution. Why was not I the one 
taken \ O Lord, thou only knowest ! 

I have this morning reviewed my journal, 
and find reason to bless God that he has 
enabled me to write in such a manner that 
I can trace the most important events of 
my life from the time I was ten years old 
until now. And I hope to continue this 
record, that it may give me occasion, in 
time to come, to sing of mercy, and review 
the waymarks of my course until time with 
me shall be no more. The past has been 
a year of mercies. My friends have been 
spared, and my own health continued. God 
I believe has clearly pointed out the path 
w T hich has led me to this Seminary, and 
now, just as I commence my twenty-fourth 
year, and about six years from the time of 
entering college, I am permitted to enter 
upon a course of theological study. I de- 
sire then renewedly to consecrate myself to 
17 



194 MEMOIR. 

the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, to express 
once more my firm and hearty belief in the 
religion of Jesus Christ as set forth in the 
Holy Scriptures, to renew the resolutions 
which I made at the opening of the present 
session of study, and to implore divine as- 
sistance, and the guiding and illuminating 
influences of the Holy Spirit in time to 
come. 

" O Lord, make thy face to shine on thine 
unworthy servant, and prepare him to do and 
suffer all thy will here and glorify thee here- 
after. 

" September 29th. He writes, — I wish you 
could hear some of our preaching. Last Sun- 
day we had a very able sermon from Profes- 
sor A. on the argument for the Scriptures from 
prophecy. I thought it unanswerable. I 
used to fear that when I came to the Theo- 
logical Seminary, I should have my faith 
very much tried in regard to some doctrines 
of the Bible that I had received in childhood 
without proof, such as the divinity of Christ, 
&c. But I find that the verv reverse of this 
is thus far true. * The proofs in favor of 
our holy religion, and the doctrines of the 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 195 

gospel, as I received them in the closet and 
Sabbath school in childhood, multiply upon 
me every day. And when I see our ex- 
cellent and learned professors of one mind, 
men of prayer, and meekly sitting at the feet 
of Jesus, I cannot but feel that there is a 
power in the doctrines of the cross, that can 
be found nowhere else. My opinion now is, 
that you should instruct a child in the 
doctrines of the gospel, and let him take 
them on trust until he is able to examine 
them for himself. There is no fear of the 
result 

" It is very pleasant to hear, as I do, the 
voice of prayer morning and evening ascend- 
ing on all sides of me. I feel as if I was 
doubly guarded and secure from all evil. I 
generally rise about half past five, and spend 
the time before prayers and breakfast in 
devotional exercises and reading in my 
Greek Testament. After breakfast I w^alk a 
mile or tw r o and also after supper. In the 
evening I am in the habit of reading in the 
Old Testament, and meditating upon its 
great truths. I am now re-reading Paley's 
Evidences of Christianity. I am reading also 



196 



MEMOIR. 



Dr. Chalmers's works in course, and some of 
Stephens's Travels again. I write out in sep- 
arate books four courses of Lectures, and 
read on subjects connected with them. We 
have a great deal of writing to do. Every 
thing goes on prosperously. I have had a pe- 
culiar visitation of the Spirit, in some respects 
remarkable, and differing from what I ever 
had before. I think I never have had such 
strength imparted to me from above as now. 
My times of prayer are seasons of great 
delight, especially on Sabbath noon. I have 
prayed with new zeal for Samuel, and intend 
to write to him on the subject of his soul's 
salvation this very week. I wish I could 
have a long, long talk with you. How 
much I would say ! But I think of you 
often, and pray for you at least twice every 
day." 

In October he continued his Journal. 

" October Wih. I find it profitable to 
devote the first portion of my time in the 
morning to prayer, praise, and reading the 
Sacred Scriptures. This is due to my Creator, 
as being the time generally when the mind 
is most vigorous and active ; and, moreover, 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 197 

it is the most fitting time in which to return 
thanks to Him who has watched about my 
pillow, and shielded me from harm. The sec- 
ond portion of my time I think proper to 
devote to exercise, in order that I may enter 
with vigor and success upon the studies in 
which I am engaged — that if I have granted 
me ' sana mens,' I may have it ' in sano cor- 
pore* The third portion I devote to study, 
reading, attendance on recitations, lectures, 
&c. By the blessing of God, I am now making 
some progress in the Hebrew language — 
commenced translating yesterday in the first 
chapter of Genesis. I am also attending 
four courses of lectures weekly, and writing 
notes on them. I read the New Testament 
in Greek in the morning, and at evening the 
Old Testament in English, in connection 
with the course of lectures on Biblical His- 
tory. I am reading and writing out as I 
have time, Chalmers on Natural Theology 
and Paley's Evidences of Christianity. In 
connection with my devotions I am reading 
Jeremy Taylor s ' Holy Living and Dying.' 
I am also reading D'Aubigne's History of 
the Reformation, Pollok's Course of Time, 



198 MEMOIR. 

and Stephens's Travels in Egypt and the 
Holy Land. I have just finished reading 
and writing out that most admirable book, 
Hodge's Way of Life. I devote half an 
hour a day to the study of Greek, which 
exercise, in connection with writing to my 
friends and correspondents generally once or 
tw r ice a week, with attendance on prayers, 
and evening exercises in the Oratory or else- 
where, fully occupies my time. 

" October 18th. Last evening I heard of the 
death of a very promising young man who 
was a classmate in Amherst for more than a 
year. He left on account of his health, but 
entered college again after I graduated, with 
high hopes of being permitted to enter the 
Christian ministry. He remained in college 
till within a few weeks of Commencement 
this fall, and then returned home. Although 
not able to be present at the exercises, he 
took his degree, but the Lord has called him, 
and he has gone to his rest. ' O Lord, 
make me to know mine end and the measure 
of my days what it is, that I may know how 
frail I am.' 

" October 20th. Last evening had a delight- 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 199 

ful interview with Dr. Scudder, missionary 
from India. He came into the Oratory and 
attended prayers, after which he took each 
of the students by the hand, and presented 
them with a little book he had just pub- 
lished, entitled 'The Redeemer's last com- 
mand.' It was an affecting meeting, and God 
grant it may be productive of much good. 

" October 25 th. Eead to-day the little 
book referred to above with deep interest, 
and trust that I shall not be unmindful of its 
appeal. I hope that my desire is neither to 
waver, or shrink from the call of duty as to 
my future situation. I have determined to- 
day to pray more earnestly for those before 
whom, in time past, I have set an unholy 
example, that they may all become devoted 
Christians, and be more consistent in their 
conduct. 

" November 22d. I set apart yesterday as 
a day of fasting and prayer, that I might be 
delivered from the dominion of my spiritual 
foes. God has been very gracious to me in 
giving me strength to resist them for a few 
weeks, but constant and renewed application 
will do me no harm, nor displease my Hea- 
venly Father, 



200 



MEMOIR. 



" December 12th. God continues to speak 
in thunder-tones, admonishing me of the 
shortness and uncertainty of life. Since 
I came to Princeton I have heard of the 
death of at least eight of those with whom 
I was once acquainted* One was a young 
man who was a classmate with me during 
our four years' college course ; another, a 
college friend mentioned under date of Octo- 
ber 18th ; two young ladies in Conway, one 
of whom was a pupil of mine during the 
last term that I kept school in that place, 
and who seemed at one time to have serious 
impressions, which afterwards wore off; the 
old ' mother in Israel ■ mentioned under 
date of January 25 th, and three )~oung men 
of about my own age, who were formerly in- 
timate schoolmates of mine. One died far 
from friends, of rapid consumption, in Cal- 
cutta; another, a midshipman, was drown- 
ed in the Gulf of Mexico. The third, a 
noble youth, perished in that fearful gale 
which wrecked the steamboat Atlantic, in 
Long Island Sound, on her way from Boston 
to New York, the particulars of which are 
still fresh in our recollections, and the 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 201 

thought of the horrors of which still sends 
an electric thrill through my veins. Early 
their work has been accomplished, and 
they have passed into eternity. Lord, who 
shall go next? Is it I % Is it I? O, if 
it is, may I be found of thee in peace. May 
it be gain for me to die, and may I die in 
thine own time, and in thine own way. But 
when the hour comes, then, Lord Jesus, re- 
ceive my spirit. 

"December 21th. The last Sabbath in 
the year has come, and I am not in hell 
where I deserve to be, nor in heaven where 
I hope, finally, through the mercy of God, 
to be ; but I am yet on earth, in health and 
strength, and in the possession of all my 
faculties. I love to note time as it flies ; to 
seize such occasions as the present to make 
mention of his loving-kindnesses to me, 
who hath loved me with an everlasting 
love, and to implore his favor in time to 
come. 

1 I love to think on mercies past, 
And future good implore.' 

Had any one told me on the last Sabbath of 
last year, that to-day I should have stood 



202 MEMOIR. 

within the walls of this seminary of learning, 
I should have been much surprised ; but, by 
God's help, here I am. I made it at one 
time, during the first part of the year, a 
special subject of prayer that God would 
give me direction as to pursuing my theo- 
logical course this year. I prayed that if he 
designed to have me go on immediately, he 
would make it known to me, and show 
me by unmistakable signs w r hat he would 
have me do. Others prayed for me, and 
God heard those prayers. I here record it 
for my future encouragement in seeking 
divine guidance — God heard those prayers. 
About the first of June many of my friends 
felt an uncommon interest to have me 
come to this Seminary. But I had no 
money to carry me through. Would the 
Lord ' make windows in heaven 1 ' Yes ! if 
need be. Behold! just at the expected mo- 
ment, the Lord raises up one who lends me 
sufficient for my purpose. Many remarkable 
minor providences were connected with this 
affair. Can I doubt that the Lord's hand 
was in it \ To doubt would be, I believe, 
an awful sin against God. I have a praying 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 203 

mother and praying friends, and the Lord has 
inclined my heart to prayer, and prayer is not 
in vain. I record it again, Prayer is not in 
vain. What now doth the Lord require of 
me, but to keep his commandments, and to 
love him with all my heart? Lord, I stand 
pledged to thy service for another year. 
Many times, during the past year, hast thou 
called me to note the death of those with 
whom I once associated. Shall any one 
mark mine down during the coming year % 
Or shall I be spared ? If so, may it be to 
glorify thee — to grow in grace — to do 
good — to ripen for heaven and eternal 
glory. O let thy guiding hand be with me 
in time to come, as it has been in time 
past. 

4 Guide me, O thou great Jehovah, 
Pilgrim through this barren land ; 

I am weak, but thou art mighty ; 
Hold me with thy powerful hand. 

Bread of heaven, 
Feed me till I want no more.' " 

I cannot better describe Mr. Emerson's 
progress in spirituality and knowledge, dur- 
ing his connection with the Seminary, than 



204 



MEMOIR. 



by continuing to give extracts from his let- 
ters and journal : — 

" April, 1847. It will require much study 
for me to prepare to feed acceptably a flock 
of God, of which I may have the oversight. 
The nearer I approach the ministry, the more 
I shrink from it. I once thought no man led 
an easier life than a minister. Aside from 
the awful responsibility of the sacred office, 
I now feel that a minister's labors are of no 
small account. "While the Bible is a rich 
fund from which all may derive unlimited 
benefit, people will not long be satisfied 
with the barren generalities of unsanctified 
expounders of it. I believe it is only the 
deeply spiritual man who can look into its 
6 hidden mysteries,' and only the growing 
Christian minister w T ho can continually 
1 bring forth out of this treasure-house 
things new and old.' If such men as Ed- 
wards, Whitefield, and Payson could ex- 
claim, ; Who is sufficient for these things X ' 
what must w T e, candidates for the same office, 
say — whose gifts, faith, and knowledge, 
when compared with theirs, are ' less than 
the least.' I know, however, that despon- 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 205 

dency is the opposite extreme to spiritual 
pride, and I know also that God raiseth up 
men of low degree. Asahel Nettleton was 
a man not at all distinguished for his intel- 
lectual or scientific attainments, and yet of 
what a glorious host is he the spiritual 
leader ! 

* 'Tis not a cause of small import 

The pastor's care demands, 
But what might fill an angel's heart, 
And filled a Saviour's hands.' 

" I rejoice to learn, by your last, that 
there are so many indications for good in 
Newbury port. I trust that they will not, as 
heretofore, prove like the 'early dew that 
vanisheth away.' I should rejoice to come 
home and find you in the midst of a revival. 
There is nothing of such a spirit manifested 
here. This place is noted for ministers and 
for ungodliness. Although we have so much 
preaching, iniquity abounds. Perhaps there 
is too much preaching. I have sometimes 
thought so. I went out yesterday afternoon 
and spoke at a school-house in Mapleton 
Parish, in Kingston, a town adjoining here. 
The walk was about three miles. Mr. R. goes 
out every Sabbath afternoon, and teaches 
18 



206 MEMOIR. 

a Bible class at three o'clock, and speaks 
to a small congregation at four. He invited 
me to go out with him and speak. The con- 
gregation was not quite as large as usual, 
on account of the day being cold and very- 
windy. We took tea in a pleasant family, 
and returned before dark. 

"Ja?i. 10th, 1847. I think I have de- 
rived comfort and spiritual nourishment to- 
day at the sacramental table. I feel as if I 
had met my God and Saviour, and as if I 
had touched the golden sceptre which he 
extended to me — as if I had preferred my 
petition, and received an answer of peace. 
Last evening, as I looked back on a w 7 eek, 
in which I had committed many and griev- 
ous sins, and as I looked forward to the cele- 
bration of the Sacred Supper, I hope my heart 
melted in penitence. I felt, in an unusual 
degree, the freeness and fullness there is in 
Christ, and my own vileness and helpless- 
ness. ' O, that I may always feel thus.' 
Lord, I make a new surrender of myself to 
thee. Take me, bless me, save me in thy 
everlasting kingdom. 

" April 29th, 1847. Went on Tuesday to 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 



207 



Freehold, N. J., to attend a meeting of the 
New Brunswick Presbytery, and was exam- 
ined on personal religion, and my motives 
for choosing the gospel ministry ; also, on 
my college studies and the Hebrew lan- 
guage. The examinations were sustained 
by the Presbytery. The following exercises 
were assigned to me to prepare : 

" I. A Latin piece, ' De Vocatione Efficacia.' 
" II. A Critical exercise. Judges xi. 32 - 40. 
" III. A Lecture. Psalm cxxxi. 
" IV. A Sermon. Deuteronomy vi. 4. 

" May God help me in my preparation for 
the great work of the gospel ministry, give 
me a due sense of its awful responsibility, 
and prepare me to serve him in just the way 
he would have me. 

" Aug. 29th, 1847. Through the abound- 
ing goodness of my God, I am brought to 
behold the first Sabbath of my second year 
in Princeton Theological Seminary. My 
Heavenly Father is kind, very kind to me, 
and abundant in long-suffering. I tremble 
to-day as I review the record I made on the 
first Sabbath of last year, and think how far 



208 



MEMOIR. 



I have come short. I tremble as I look for- 
ward to a new year, and think of its temp- 
tations and its dangers. I hope that I feel 
in some measure convinced that my strength 
is perfect weakness, and I trust that my de- 
sire is to lean only on the Lord Jesus for 
guidance and a blessing. 

" To thee, O God, I renewedly dedicate 
myself, and all that I am and have. 

"Upon thee, O Saviour, and upon thy 
precious atonement, I cast myself. 

" Guide me, O, Holy Spirit, and let me be 
led by thee, that I may become one of the 
' sons of God.' 

" I was permitted to return home in May, 
and enjoy many weeks in the pleasant so- 
ciety of my well-beloved parents and friends. 
Through the goodness of my Heavenly 
Father I am now in health permitted to 
commence the duties of a new session. May 
the Lord watch over those dear friends, 
while we are absent one from the other. 
May my own life and health be spared that 
I may meet them again, and rejoice with 
them in the goodness of our common God 
and Father. 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 209 

"Sept. 12M, 1847. Have been permitted 
to-day to go to the table of the Lord, and 
renew my covenant with him. O, may I be 
forever the Lord's. Have been exceedingly 
refreshed to-day, in reading anew a part of 
the life of that eminent man of God, Jere- 
miah Hallock. O Lord, I pray to have 
much of his devotedness in thy service. 

"Sept 11th. 

1 Feed me, O Lord, with needful food : 

I ask not wealth or fame ; 
But give me eyes to view thy works, 
A heart to praise thy name. 

1 Oh ! may my days obscurely pass, 
Without remorse or care ; 
And let me for my parting hour 
From day to day prepare.' 

" Sept. 19th. Finished reading to-day, for 
the second time, the Life of Rev. J. Hallock. 
I think it, in many respects, the most spirit- 
ual memoir I ever read. O, for some of his 
faith and piety. O, for his unshaken hope. 
O, for a home with him where Christ is. 

" Sept. 21th, 1847. I am this day twenty- 
four years old. 

18* 



210 



MEMOIR. 



1 And now, my soul, another year 
Of thy short life is past ; 
I cannot long continue here, 
And this may be my last. 

* Much of my dubious life is gone, 

Nor will return again ; 
And swift my fleeting moments run, 
The few that yet remain. 

* Awake, my soul, with utmost care, 

Thy true condition learn ; 
What are thy hopes 1 — how sure? how fair ? 
What is thy great concern 1 

1 Behold, another year begins! 
Set out afresh for heaven ! 
Seek pardon for thy former sins, 
In Christ so freely given. 

* Devoutly yield thyself to God, 

And on his grace depend ; 
With zeal pursue the heavenly road, 
Nor doubt a happy end.' 

Church Psalmody, Hymn 686. 

"Another year of unbroken mercy and 
heavenly favor. c Bless the Lord, O my 
soul.' Another year of indulgence in many 
sins, and scarcely any growth in grace. Be 
humbled, O my soul, in the dust on account 
of it. Must it always be thus, O Lord? 
Must every year be a record of spiritual 
leanness and barrenness ? Am I never more 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 211 

to grow in grace 1 O, it cannot, it must not 
be. I think I do desire to be holier and 
more heavenly. Why, then, am I not so \ 
4 Search me, O Lord, and know my heart ; 
try me, and know my thoughts, and see if 
there be any wicked way in me, and lead me 
in the way everlasting.' Through abound- 
ing mercy, I am now in my second year at 
the Theological Seminary. I was permitted 
to be at Commencement at Amherst in Au- 
gust last, and, with several of my classmates, 
to take the degree of A. M. The three years 
that have elapsed since I left college have 
flown rapidly away, and soon I shall go 
from this seminary, and soon, too, my time 
will come to die. ' Lord, make me to know 
mine end, and the measure of my days, what 
it is, that I may know how frail I am.' I 
feel conscious, I think, to-night, that I am 
a guilty sinner, deserving God's everlasting 
wrath and curse. If saved from the guilt of 
sin, it must be only by the precious blood 
and righteousness of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
To that precious fountain I fly. ' Create in 
me a clean heart, O God ! ' Make me wholly 
thine, and thus prepare me to be the means 



212 MEMOIR. 

of directing others to the Saviour. To thee 
I commit myself, O Lord, and all I am and 
have ; my life, health, reason, parents, bro- 
thers, sisters, friends, my body and soul. 
Thou hast done great things for me in years 
past. O let a greater work, even the quick- 
ening of my soul, be done for me this 
year. 

" To God only wise be glory, through 
Jesus Christ forever. Amen." 

" Princeton, (Sabbath, 2 o'clock,) Sept. 5th, 1847. 

" Ever dear Mother, — At this conse- 
crated hour I feel as if I must say a few 
words to you. I have just risen from my 
knees, where I have been endeavoring to 
pray fervently for father and you, for myself, 
and for all the beloved members of our 
family. It is, my dear mother, a season 
peculiarly sweet. At this hour, ever since I 
can remember, have you led your beloved 
children to the throne of grace, and com- 
mitted them to Him who hath said, ' I will 
be a God to thee and thy seed after thee.' 
A covenant-keeping God is your God,, and, 
be assured, he will be the God of your chil- 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 213 

(Iron. We have had a most interesting ser- 
mon to-day on the nature of this covenant to 
believers and their children ; and I think 
it was dearly shown, that if the conditions of 
faithfulness on the part of the parents, and 
repentance and faith on the part of the 
children, were complied with, God, in a 
special and peculiar manner, promises to 
visit them with loving-kindness and favor. 
O, how my heart leaped within me during 
the discourse, to think that I w r as the child 
of faithful, pious parents — a child of the 
covenant. On your part, my beloved pa- 
rents, the conditions of the covenant have 
been met ; but alas ! for my part. But there 
is hope yet. God will be my God, if I now 
exercise faith and repentance — will he not ? 
My dear mother, the instructions you have 
given us at this hour will not be lost ; ' in 
due season you shall reap.' Every prayer 
you have offered is remembered by our faith- 
ful God; every tear you have shed is in his 
bottle ; your heart shall be made glad. O, 
I seem to-day to feel it and know it. If I 
am cast out, our beloved Samuel will be 
brought in. But O, we must, we must all 



214 MEMOIR. 

walk the shining streets of the New Jeru- 
salem together. My heart, hard as it is, has 
in some measure melted to-day, as I have 
reviewed the ways of mercy in which God 
has led me, and the communications of his 
Spirit in times past. My sins have been set 
in order before me, and, in some degree, I 
have been led to see how vile I am. But I 
have tried to give myself away to God again, 
and, in some feeble degree, to fulfill my part 
of that covenant into which you entered for 
me, when you gave me up to God in baptism. 
I have longed to be a child again, and feel 
as I did when I was ten years old. My 
dear mother, sadly as I have wandered since, 
I do feel that I was a child of God then. 
Would that I had followed all the counsels 
you then gave me. Would that I had been 
kind and obedient, and never given you 
cause for pain. I wish I had said more to 
you this summer about my spiritual state. 
I regret it very much ; but you must pardon 
me, when you remember how singularly 
prone I am, not to communicate freely, even 
with my nearest and dearest friends. I love 
you with a very strong love, which is not 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 215 

and cannot be quenched. I know how 
inuch yon love me and seek my best good. 
And, because you thus love me, I will try 
now, that I am again separated from you, to 
tli row off that spirit of reserve about which 
you have so often spoken, so that when I 
come home again, we may converse freely 
about those things which pertain to our 
peace. I will begin now ; this letter shall 
be my first trial. All my cares and joys and 
confidence shall be yours, and you shall 
write me just what you feel and think. 
Shall it not be so ] I mourn that I have 
not loved our dear Samuel more. I do love 
him, though not as much as I ought. But 
I will try to love him by praying for him, 
and we will seek his conversion, and try to 
walk in love and holiness together. Your 
great love for me will pardon, I know, all 
that has been wrong and unkind in me to- 
wards you. What cannot a mother's love 
do I I think much of God's goodness in 
permitting us to see each other again, and 
spend so much pleasant time together, and 
visit so many of our dear friends, and return- 
ing us all (as I trust he has) safe home 



216 



MEMOIR. 



again. And now ought we not to give our- 
selves anew to him, and determine to live 
only for his glory ? I have been feeling to- 
day as if I would give myself up, if God 
saw fit to put me into the ministry, to go 
just where he would choose to have me. 
Pray much for me, that I may be sincere in 
this. Accept this, my dear mother, from 
" Your ever affectionate son, John. 

« Sabbath noon, September 12th, 1847. 

" My dear Mother, — Again, at this hal- 
lowed hour I sit down to hold converse with 
my dearest earthly friend. I do not deem it a 
profanation of the day thus to write, because 
I want to say to you just the things I would 
if I were present with you, and, now we are 
separated, this is our only means of com- 
munication. I love to have letters from you 
written at this hour. They seem to be of a 
more sacred character. I received your 
kind letter yesterday, and w^as, I trust, truly 
thankful that you had been brought safe 
home again, and was seated by your little 
desk to write to me. God was indeed kind 
to us during our long journey, both in 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 217 

sparing our lives and giving us such pleasant 
weather. I think we could not have selected 
out of the whole summer, five more favorable 
weeks than those in which we were absent. 

11 1 agree with you that travelling is not 
the way to grow in grace. I presume you 
can say now, that you have returned to our 
dear home and your quiet Bethel. It is 
good for me to be here — I have often 
wished since my return that I was, at least, 
as near to you as Boston or Andover, where 
I could run in and see you sometimes ; but 
then I have thought how plainly the path 
seemed marked out for me to come here, 
and in what ways of mercy God has dealt 
with me since I have been here : and shall 
I now run away, and that too without a 
sufficient cause ? No. This, I think, would 
be to tempt God. Perhaps we are so situ- 
ated, that we may love and think of each 
other more and pray more for each other; 
and since I am such a dumb Zacharias 
about talking with you on spiritual things 
when we are together, we may, by writ- 
ing, stir up each other's minds in holy 
and divine things. I begin to feel as if 
19 



218 MEMOIR. 

God had commenced a new work in my 
soul, and had given me some new views 
of the awful responsibility and sacredness 
of the gospel ministry. I have been led 
often since my return to ask myself the 
question, Why have I commenced preparing 
for the ministry ? Is it because you wanted 
me to be a minister, or because I thought I 
could make the most of myself in that office, 
or was it without having any very definite 
end in view ] If any or all these were my 
motives, O, how unworthy am I of that 
great work ! But I trust that these have 
not been my governing motives, though I 
fear that they have had too much influence. 
I pray God that they may not be the 
motives with which I shall eventually enter 
the office. I pray that nothing short of the 
one and all-absorbing desire to save precious 
souls, and thereby glorify God, may prompt 
me to become a minister. For this I de- 
sire to have you pray, and for this I mean 
to pray myself. I thank you for your good 
advice, and I think God has set forth some 
of my defects this summer more plainly to 
my own mind, and I trust he will give me 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 219 

strength to overcome them. There is a 
restlessness under reproof, and a severity in 
my manner when I am reproved, of which I 
am too often guilty. This I must try to over- 
come. Moreover, I am too listless, and have 
too little self-confidence, and altogether too 
little of a self-denying spirit. These things 
I know as well as you, and to will to get 
rid of them is present with me, but how to 
perform, I know not. Prayer only, I believe, 
will effect it. To this refuge, then, let me 
flee continually. 

" We have been privileged to-day with an- 
other season of communion at the table of 
our Lord. My heart was cold and my affec- 
tions not in lively exercise; still I trust I did 
in some measure enjoy God in his house." 

"Princeton, October 10th, 1847. 

" Ever dear Mother, — I have been en- 
joying that precious hour which we have so 
long observed as a concert of prayer. I feel 
peculiarly near to you on such occasions, 
and to-day, especially, I have thought of you 
as sitting down at the table of our divine 
Lord, and partaking of the memorials of his 
love. I trust you have had ' a feast of fat 



220 MEMOIR. 

things.' Your letter received on Friday filled 
my heart with joy. I am thankful that 
your life and health are spared, while sick- 
ness and death are doing their work around 
you. I hope you will have the light of 
God's countenance, and be able to ' read 
your title clear to mansions in the skies.' 
I feel as if the Spirit of God had been 
operating on my mind since my return, by 
stirring me up to a spirit of inquiry, as 
to my true condition as a Christian, and the 
motives for which I have sought the min- 
istry. I trust that I feel deeply desirous to be 
the Lord's ; but so little have I struggled 
for a few years against the power of in- 
dwelling sin, that it has gained a frightful 
dominion over me. Continually I find that 
4 when I would do good, evil is present with 
me.' I fear I have not yet learned how 
exceedingly sinful a thing sin is, and how 
deep-rooted it is in the natural heart, and 
that the warfare against it must be per- 
petual. I think that one reason why I have 
been so impatient when any one told me my 
faults, was, because I hoped I had gained 
the mastery over them, and was disappointed 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 221 

that they still held sway. Now this I know 
must not be. The warfare mnst be per- 
petual — the armor must not belaid down 
until death. I thank you for reminding me 
of my failings in your last letter. At the 
first sight of them, I felt the same evil 
risings of the carnal heart, but had grace 
given me to quell them. I have tried to 
begin a reformation by ' taking some of the 
young foxes; but such is the deceitfulness 
of my heart, and such has been my ex- 
perience in time past, that perhaps before I 
see you again, I shall have let them go, and 
they will once more be ; spoiling the vines.' 
This is the reason I do not grow in grace. 
I have no perseverance. I give up the work 
when half done, and it might almost as well 
not have been begun. O, for a holy energy 
and boldness, that will lead me forth always 
conquering and to conquer. Pray, pray for 
me in this respect. 

" God is yet speaking to us by his provi- 
dence. A week ago last Friday I was at 
the funeral of Miss O. C, once a pupil of 
mine in Monson, who died here at her 
father's, of consumption. She was very 
19* 



222 MEMOIR. 

beautiful and accomplished. Her end was 
peace. Last Sabbath was attended in the 
Presbyterian church, by a large audience, the 
funeral of a young man of this place aged 
seventeen, a member of the Sophomore class 
in the college here. He had had a severe 
fever, and was getting better, but a sudden 
rupture caused him to die that very night. 
When he found he must die, he called 
mightily on God to save his soul. But the 
saddest news came to us last night. A 
young man has been in this Seminary for 
two years, and left at the close of last ses- 
sion, giving up his Christian hope. He went 
to Mississippi to teach — was taken with the 
yellow fever — was not considered dangerous 
until twenty-four hours before his decease — 
then was taken delirious and died ! O, pray 
for me that I may not be a self-deceiver. 

" October 31st I can hardly refrain from 
saying to you a few words on paper every 
Sabbath noon, as you seem so peculiarly 
near to me. I love to think of you always, 
but especially on this blessed day, and at our 
hour of prayer. ' I have prayed for thee,' 
to-day, my beloved' mother, ' that thy faith 



KKSIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 223 

fail not." I have remembered your request 
made in your last letter, and what you said 
about the nearness of eternity and your 
feelings in view of it. If I felt better pre- 
pared myself for its solemn realities, perhaps 
I could afford you some more encouragement. 
Still, dear mother, unworthy as we are, and 
many and aggravated as are our sins, — 
Christ has died for us. Here is our only hope. 
The importance of this blessed truth presses 
upon my attention more and more every day. 
We can do nothing, absolutely nothing^ 
without it. In vain do we wash ourselves 
with snow-water and make ourselves ever 
so clean ; without Christ, we are plunged in 
the ditch, and our own clothes are made to 
abhor us. It is in vain that we look for 
comfort in animal excitement, and frames of 
mind, and religious feelings; these are all 
worthless. If we are without Christ, we are 
of all men most miserable. But in regard 
to your own case, I wish you to take 
courage. You know, as well as I do, that 
much of your sad state arises from your ner- 
vous debility. In this disease of yours, I am 
more than ever ready to sympathize with 



224 



MEMOIR. 



you. I know that it is truly a disease, and 
that many of your feelings are absolutely 
unavoidable. But supposing you were not 
nervous. Supposing your nerves were in a 
sound and healthy state, and that you never 
had a dark or gloomy hour, have you ever 
considered that even such a frame of mind 
w r ould not entitle you to heaven? Even 
then, Christ's death would be your only 
hope. And has Christ died only for persons 
of sound nerves'? Do you think he will 
cast you out because you are afflicted with 
disease % Is not his invitation rather given 
to the afflicted % Does he not say, Come 
unto me, ye heavy laden \ You acknow- 
ledge that you are heavy laden. And, if so, 
does not Christ bid you come 1 Do you say 
that he does not mean you? He says, all 
that are heavy laden. And are you the only 
heavy laden one whom he does not address ? 
Surely you will not say so. But perhaps 
you say, I know Christ calls me, but I am 
so vile, he will not receive me. My dear 
mother, if you say so, remember it is you that 
say it, and not Christ He never prevented 
any from coming to him because they were 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 225 

so sinful or so nervous or so unworthy. 
These are just the persons he calls. 'I 
came not to call the righteous, but sinners to 
repentance.' I do not doubt you are a 
Christian. How can I doubt it? My only 
fear is, that you are tempting God by in- 
dulging in these doubts, and distrusting his 
promises. There is as much sin in doing 
this as there is in forgetting him altogether. 
Perhaps God hides his face from you on this 
very account, because you will not trust in 
him. You cannot atone for your number- 
less sins, and this is the very reason Christ 
invites you to him. If you could have 
atoned for them, he never would have left 
heaven to make an atonement for you. Go 
then, my dear mother, and in sincere trust, 
cast your burden at the feet of Christ, and 
bear a song away. If you come away in 
sorrow and doubt, depend upon it, it is your 
own fault ' He is able ; he is willing ; 
doubt no more! 

" But you may well ask me, w r hat have I, 
a babe in knowledge, and a mere child in 
heavenly wisdom, to do with giving you in- 
struction. I reply, in the words of holy writ, 



226 



MEMOIR. 



1 Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings 
hast thou ordained strength because of thine 
enemies ; that thou mightest still the enemy 
and the avenger' Be instructed, then, by one 
whom you have yourself instructed, by your 
own son, who tenderly loves his mother, and 
who desires her salvation, even if he is lost. 
My dear mother, if you are saved, you can 
only be saved in the way I have pointed out 
to you in this letter. If you were fleeing 
for your life from a deadly enemy, and there 
were three ways before you of escape, you 
might perish while you were making the 
choice. But now your enemy is the devil, 
and the weapon he uses is your own ner- 
vous sensibility, and there is but one way 
of escape. O, do you not see it \ It is 
the Way of Life. At the head of the way 
is a guide-board ; it is a cross, and on it 
is written in letters of blood these words: 
To Heaven, — ' Escape for thy life.' Look 
down that road, and see the dust that is 
raised by those heavy laden ones, who, with 
the ' Sta# of Bethlehem ' in view, are running 
heavenward. Join them, my mother, and I 
will run after thee. Perhaps, ere the ' door is 



RESIDENCE IN PKINCETON. 227 

shut/ one, or perchance, through boundless 
mercy, both of US shall arrive there. It is 
our only chance for life. So let us run, that 
we may obtain. 

" You may perhaps wonder that I have 
fallen into such a strain in writing to you. 
But my thoughts have been often with you, 
and, especially since you wrote your last 
letter. I try to pray often for you, for I do 
feel as if Satan had bound you with a heavy 
chain, and I long to have the captive go free. 
I trust that you will soon be enabled to sing 
the song of the freed captive. 

" When I commenced, I only intended to 
write a few words. I have been reviewing, 
during the past week, some of the Sabbath 
noon seasons, that I enjoyed with you and 
Samuel, many years ago, and I can truly say 
that the savor of them was as ointment 
poured forth. You have sometimes thought 
you labored in vain at those times, and 
spent your strength for naught. Not so. 
The good you have done us will never be 
forgotten, and great shall be your reward 
in heaven. Samuel may well complain that 
I do not write to him. But what can I say % 



228 



MIMOIR. 



My own mouth condemns me. I know 
what a just reproach he will cast upon me, 
if I write on religious subjects, that I walk 
no more circumspectly myself. I mourn 
that I have been so unfaithful to his soul, 
and have not exercised more of a spirit of 
kindness and forbearance towards him. 

" Princeton, December 19th, 1847. 

" Dear Mother, — My attention, you know, 
has been, for several weeks, turned to the 
subject of the covenant which God has 
established between believing parents and 
their children. The consideration of the 
subject grows more and more interesting to 
me, and I have become more than ever con- 
firmed in my belief that it is both the 
privilege and duty of believing parents to 
give up their infant children to God in 
baptism I do not look upon this as a mere 
consecration, as you would dedicate a house 
of worship to God. There is something far 
more significant in it than this. God cove- 
nants with his people to be their God ; that 
is, on certain conditions. These conditions 
are, faith, repentance and holy obedience. He 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 229 

covenants also to be a God to their chil- 
dren, but on certain conditions also. These 
are. 1. That the Bign of the covenant be 
applied to them, (baptism, which has taken 
the place of circumcision ;) and, 2. That 
children be constantly trained up in the fear 
of the Lord. Now you are your own wit- 
. that the seal of the covenant has been 
put upon the brows of your children, and 
your children are witnesses that you have 
fulfilled the second condition, and trained 
them up in the fear of the Lord. But there 
is something more to be done. The children 
must repent, obey, and have faith as well 
as the parents. L^nless this is the case, all 
the other conditions, (even if fulfilled) will 
be of no avail. Some may ask. then. How are 
the children of believers any better off than 
other children \ I answer, because God has 
promised to show peculiar favor to them 
and their parents, and has seen fit to render 
it in every respect more likely that they will 
be blessed. And can such favors be called 
small ? By no means. My mind has been 
much taken up with reading lately a little 
work on this subject, called ' Infant Church 
20 



230 MEMOIR. 

Membership.' Perhaps you can get it and 
read it, and, if it seems as clear to you as it 
did to me, I think you would do well to buy 
a copy, and present to Samuel (on condition 
that he will read it) as a New Year's present. 
I will bear the expense; and I wish you 
would put my name in it with yours as a 
present, and write in it these words — * In 
remembrance of our Sabbath noon exercise' 
Besides the Psalms which you proposed 
reading on Sabbath noons, I have been read- 
ing at those seasons, select passages of Scrip- 
ture on this very subject of the covenant ; and 
I will mention them to you, that you may 
look them over if you can before you write 
again, and give me your thoughts on them. 
To-day I read Genesis, xviith chapter, and 
also 1 Chron. xxviii. 1-10. Last Sabbath I 
read the first three chapters of 1 Samuel, 
and the Sabbath before the whole Book of 
Ruth, w T hich illustrates the blessings that 
came to Ruth for cleaving to her pious 
mother-in-law. Please look at all these 
passages at your leisure, and read in con- 
nection with the first mentioned one the 
following hymns : H. 113 and 114 of the 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 231 

1st "Hook, and II. 127 and 134 of the 2d 
Book (Watts,) I send you also some pieces 
to read. In that Presbyterian Almanac, 
towards the close, please read the story of the 
Praying mother, Mrs. L. The piece headed 
' Season for Revivals ' I send to show its 
agreement with the reasoning of my last 
letter, which I wrote before I saw the piece. 
And (if you have not already read it) I wish 
you would carefully read in the last Watch- 
tower a piece on the first page, headed 
1 Encouragement to Faithful Pastors.' I 
think that if I ever become a pastor, I shall, 
at an early opportunity, write a sermon on 
the nature of the covenant. I do not think 
it would be as well for me to write on it now. 
I am reading about one hundred pages each 
Sabbath in the Life of Jonathan Edwards, 
and am highly delighted. When I came to 
the account which he gives of the falling of 
the gallery, I remembered, with much in- 
terest, the story you told me about it. 

I rejoice to hear any revival news from 
Newburyport. I do hope you are yet to 
be blessed. I was grieved that so many of 
those appearances last spring proved deceit- 
ful. ***** 



232 



MEMOIR. 



" I have but one thing more to say in 
relation to the covenant. I know you en- 
deavor to pray in faith for Samuel, but sup- 
posing now you should resolve to doubt no 
longer God's promises in regard to your own 
case. Supposing you should determine that 
you will not cherish, for another day, those 
harassing doubts with which Satan has long 
tempted you, by making you try to think 
that you are not a child of God. How do 
you know but that this is the very thing 
God is waiting for, and that when you do 
this, he will hear the prayer of faith, and 
make your child even this very winter a 
monument of his faithful, covenant love? 
At any rate, I would c prove God therewith,' 
and see if he will not grant your request. 
You know Hannah named her child Samuel, 
which means, 'Asked of the Lord.' Per- 
haps God will permit you soon to call your 
youngest child, Samuel, in a spiritual sense, 
causing you to say with her of old — ' For 
this child I prayed ; and the Lord hath given 
me my petition which I asked of him.' " 

Mr. Emerson was licensed to preach the 
gospel on Wednesday, April 26th, 1848, by 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 233 

the Londonderry Presbytery, which body 
met at that time in Newburyport. On the 
next Sabbath, April 30th, he preached his 
first sermon in the first Presbyterian Church 
of that city. It was an interesting circum- 
stance, that in that same church he w r as 
baptized twenty-four years before this period; 
that here he obtained those convictions of 
sin, that resulted in his conversion ; and that 
here, twelve years before, he made a public 
profession of his faith in Christ. 

Before him were his nearest relatives and 
friends, the companions of his childhood, 
and many who had watched with deep inter- 
est his career, and the growth of piety in his 
soul. They now heard from his lips that 
gospel w^hich was so precious to him, those 
sacred truths which he ardently loved, and 
which had become incorporated into the 
very essence of his being. And they felt 
that " a man of God " was addressing them, 
that a messenger duly commissioned of Hea- 
ven, clothed with ministerial authority by 
the Great Head of the Church, fitted for his 
work by the Holy Ghost, was addressing 
them As they listened to his message, they 
20* 



234 MEMOIR. 

could exclaim, with sincerity and earnest- 
ness, " How beautiful upon the mountains 
are the feet of him that bringeth good 
tidings, that publisheth peace ; that bring- 
eth good tidings of good, that publisheth 
salvation." His prayers, his discourse, his 
manner, earnestness, devotion, all showed 
that here was no false teacher, no mere 
formal declaimer of gospel truth ; but an 
earnest messenger, to whom the ministry of 
Christ was a solemn reality, to whom the 
service of God was a delight, and one who 
felt the value of immortal souls. 

But our young servant had not preached 
long, before he was reminded of his own 
frailty, and the uncertainty of all earthly 
hopes. In September he made the following 
record in his journal : — 

" Friday, Sept. 1st, 1848. After having 
been permitted, in the good providence of 
God, to preach something more than thirty 
times, I was seized, on the first Sabbath in 
August, with a slight attack of raising blood, 
which was followed, during the week, by 
other attacks. These laid me aside from 
labor for two Sabbaths, but I preached half 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 235 

the day on the third Sabbath after I was 
taken. I am now in comfortable health 
again, and trust, if the Lord will, that I 
shall not have another attack of the disease, 
but be raised up to glorify him in the minis- 
try of reconciliation. O, that this ' light 
affliction ' may work out for me ' a far more 
exceeding and eternal weight of glory.' Have 
read with interest, recently, the Memoir of 
W. G. Crocker, missionary to Africa." 

Mr. Emerson, after preaching as opportu- 
nities offered, with very great acceptance, 
returned to Princeton in December, to com- 
plete his preparation for his great work. 

On his becoming settled in his former 
home, he resumes his journal : — 

" December 11th. Yesterday, through 
God's mercy, I again reached Princeton, 
and this is the first Sabbath in my third 
year in this Seminary. Though detained at 
home much beyond the time of the com- 
mencement of the session, I have abundant 
reason to bless Him who has returned me 
under circumstances of mercy ; and to his 
kind care and watchful providence would I 
once again commit myself. The Lord watch 



236 MEMOIR. 

between me and my friends while absent ; 
and, if T am spared to finish my course, may 
he direct me where to go, and aid me in en- 
deavoring to build up his kingdom ; and to 
his name shall be the praise. 

" December 26th. Finished, to-night, Dr. 
Spring's ' Power of the Pulpit.' O, how 
great a work is that committed to a minis- 
ter ! How delightful ! how interesting ! how 
laborious ! how responsible ! how solemn ! 
how fearful ! God's ambassador, set ' to 
watch for souls as one that must give ac- 
count.' What motives, drawn from three 
worlds, are there to induce him to be faith- 
ful. What guilt will rest upon him. if 
found unfaithful ! I pray that the perusal 
of this interesting book may serve to deepen 
my sense of the responsibility of the work 
in which I am engaged, and lead me to 
earnest endeavors in winning lost men to 
Him who has died that they might have 
life. 

"January 14<*. 1849. The table of the 
Lord has been spread to-day, and his children 
have gathered about it. O. what will be 
our joy, if, when 8 the ransomeel of the Lord 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 237 

return, 1 wo shall be found moot for the table 

that shall be spread in heaven. Grant me, 
O my heavenly Father, so to live that I shall 
then be a partaker, with thy redeemed ones, 
of the manna and wine which thou dost 
give them. Have just observed my usual 
Sabbath noon season of prayer for my 
dear parents, the members of our families, 
and other friends. This season my dear 
mother has observed with her children as 
far back as my recollection extends. Praise 
to God for pious parents who have, in truth, 
brought me up ' in the nurture and admoni- 
tion of the Lord.' 

" January 17 th. Finished reading to-day 
the first volume of ; Hopkins's System of 
Doctrines ; ' also, both parts of that won- 
derful book, ' Bunyan s Pilgrim's Progress.' 
This latter book, I think, ought to be often 
read by every Christian. 

" January 2od. This day has been set 
apart by the members of this Seminary, as a 
day of fasting, humiliation, and prayer. The 
state of religion is low, and the love of the 
brethren has ; waxed cold.' Yet God seems 
to be giving many of his children to-day a 



238 MEMOIR. 

spirit of prayer and supplication, of peni- 
tence and humility. Who knoweth if he 
will not grant us a blessing ? I think I 
have had a quickening of the Spirit re- 
cently, and have enjoyed more of the light 
of God's countenance. But sin often draws 
a veil, and hides me from Him whom, I 
humbly hope, my soul loveth. O for grace 
to-day, to forsake sin, and henceforth to 
cleave unto holiness. I am soon, if God 
spares my life, to go forth as an ' ambassa- 
dor ' in his name. O Lord, work mightily 
in me, that I may preach to others what I 
have myself experienced. 

" Finished, to-day, the Life of John Knox. 

"Feb. 1st Finished, to-day, the second 
volume of ' Hopkins's System of Doctrines,' 
the first volume of ' Tytler's Universal His- 
tory,' and ' Cheever's Lectures on the Pil- 
grim's Progress.' 

Feb. 4:th. This Sabbath has been one of 
the few which are a holy ' rest' unto my soul. 
I hope I have in some measure enjoyed God 
to-day, and been able to get near him in 
prayer. How sweet such days, and beside 
these, ' there remaineth a rest to the people 
of God.' 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 239 

** Feb. llth. This is communion day at 
the dear church with which I am connected 
in Newburyport, Thirteen years ago I was 
perm it ted to sit down for the first time at 
the table of our Lord with that beloved 
church. Wl tat an unworthy member have 
I been. I trust that I say this feelingly, for 
when God, at times, discovers to me the de- 
pravity of my own heart (as I think he has 
been recently doing,) I find it to be a very 
sink of iniquity. O, none but God and I, 
know what a sinner I am. I feel, to-day, 
that were it not for the rich mercy of God 
in Jesus Christ, I should be entirely undone. 
I have nothing to plead on my own behalf. 
I am nothing, and can do nothing. I flee 
to the fountain of thy blood, O thou incar- 
nate God. Wash me ; make me clean. 
Thou knowest that I would be thine. If 
saved at all, it must be w r holly by thy blood 
and righteousness. Make me to do thy will 
on earth, and then take me to thyself in 
heaven to praise thee forever. 

" I have read, during the past week, the 
1 Life of Newton,' and a little work called 
■ The Pearl of Days.' 



240 



MEMOIR. 



" Tuesday, March 13th. I have set apart 
this day as a day of special fasting, humilia- 
tion and prayer, mingled with thanksgiving 
for past mercies. As I am so soon to go 
forth as a minister of Jesus Christ, I feel 
that I have great need for prayer, fervent, 
constant prayer. I would this day seek the 
special presence and blessing of the Father, 
Son, and Holy Ghost. Think upon me, O 
my God, this day for good. I have endea- 
vored, in my morning devotions, to look for 
a blessing on the exercises of the day. 

"10 1-2, A. M. I have endeavored to offer 
a prayer of thanksgiving for past and present 
mercies. I have tried to thank God for — 
existence — a soul — reason — perfect facul- 
ties — for having been born in a Christian 
land and of pious parents — for baptism — 
tender care of parents and friends — early re- 
ligious training and instruction — for God's 
grace manifested in blessing the pious con- 
versation of my mother to my awakening 
and (I hope) turning to God — for blessing 
to my special attention the second chapter 
of the book of Proverbs, w^hich I have since 
called 8 my chapter ' — for the joy in God I 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 



241 



often found even at that tender age (ten 
years old) in private devotion, in the reading 
of the Scriptures, in perusing religious 
books, and in assemblies for prayer and 
Christian conference. I have thanked him 
for having my attention called by a sermon 
of my pastor to the importance of making 
a public profession of religion — in being 
permitted, after deliberation and advice with 
friends, to present myself, as a candidate, to 
the session of the church — in being accept- 
ed and propounded — in the opportunities 
of communion, so frequently enjoyed — for 
strength to withstand evil companions — for 
preparation for college — for answers to 
prayer in being provided with a pious, dis- 
creet room-mate — for deliverance from evil 
companions and from backsliding, while 
connected with college — for being permit- 
ted to graduate with honor, in presence of 
my friends — for success in teaching — for 
friends in the place, and for a revival of 
religion in my school — for an opportunity 
(specially in answer to prayer) to come to 
the Theological Seminary — for guidance 
through the first year, and opportunity to 
21 



242 MEMOIR. 

return and visit my friends — for guidance 
through the second year, and deliverance out 
of many snares — for a license to preach the 
everlasting gospel — for so many opportuni- 
ties of proclaiming it — for the numerous 
manifestations of kindness by many friends 

— for deliverance from threatening sickness 
and renewed health — for the Saviour, the 
Bible, the Sabbath, the way of salvation, and 
the hope of eternal life. These mercies I 
find to be ' more than the hairs of my head,' 
and ' as the sand of the sea, innumerable.' 
I have noted down some of them as themes 
for gratitude and praise on other occasions, 
in connection with mercies yet in store. 

"12, M. Endeavored to confess my sins 
before God, and to seek forgiveness for 
Christ's sake. But how can I begin to re- 
count the black and fearful catalogue % Ori- 
ginal and actual sin — sins of omission and 
commission — sins against a most holy God 

— sins against my parents — my friends — 
companions — Christians — the church — 
the impenitent — against myself. O, they 
run parallel only with God's large and free 
mercies. Forgive these sins, O my heavenly 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 243 

Father, and impute not my iniquities unto 
me, but pardon me through the righteous- 
ness of thy dear Son. 

" 1 1-2, P. M. Have brought before God, 
in prayer, my particular sins, from which I 
desire to be delivered, and which have long 
had control over me, viz. sloth ; an evil tem- 
per; the indulgence of vain and wicked 
thoughts, and my ' easily besetting sins.' 
These have taken fast hold upon me, and, 
by some of them, I have already been so far 
brought into captivity, that I know not that 
I shall be free again. But ' I can do all 
things through Christ which strengthened 
me.' O, for strength, this day, to burst these 
more than iron fetters, and shake off these 
heavy yokes. 

" 3 1-2, P. M. Have tried to commit my- 
self to God for the remainder of my term of 
study in this institution ; praying that I may 
be enabled in thought, speech, and behavior 
to glorify him who hath hitherto helped me, 
relying on him alone for strength, and never 
feeling that I am sufficient of myself to 
keep myself. Lord, keep me ever mindful 
that all my sufficiency is of thee." 



244 MEMOIR. 

In the midst of our rejoicings over the 
near completion of our beloved brothers 
studies, we are saddened by the indications 
that his journal and letters give of the insi- 
dious workings of disease upon his system. 

In February, after giving a minute ac- 
count of the state of his health, he writes 
thus : — 

" I have for some time been very regular 
in the exercise of walking four or five miles 
a day, which I think has been promotive of 
health. I still feel as if all I need is air and 
exercise. I study and read as usual. I have 
been talking with Dr. Alexander in regard 
to myself, and he seems to think that a 
return to New England, after I finish my 
studies, would be well. He thinks a settle- 
ment in a place where I should not have the 
labor of riding over a large field would be 
best. He told me that moderate exercise 
would be better than violent for me, and per- 
haps a cold climate better than a warm one. 
I have thought that it might be well for me 
to travel or visit among my friends, for six 
or eight weeks in the summer, without per- 
forming much hard labor. I feel that I am 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 245 

gaining strength, though Dr. Alexander said 
he thought I might not be very strong, per- 
haps, for some years to come. One thing 
that has helped me, I think, has been the 
unusual good spirits I have enjoyed this 
winter. I attribute this in part to the 
weather we have had. It has been an un- 
usual winter, entirely unlike either of the 
others I have spent here. Above all, I trust 
I have been more blessed than usual with 
the light of God's countenance and the visits 
of his love. I try to feel that I am wholly 
in his hands. I pray earnestly that I may 
live to preach the gospel, but hope to be 
ready to say also 'to die is gain.', I feel 
daily that I am a poor, lost sinner, wholly 
dependent on the atonement of the Lord 
Jesus Christ for salvation. This feeling I 
desire to keep in lively exercise. To-day is 
the day of prayer for colleges. Our students 
meet by colleges at 9 o'clock, and at 11 
o'clock the professors meet us in a general 
meeting. I shall hope to have an account 
in your next of the observance of the day 
with you. I was interested in the account 
of the church Fast, and should have been 
21* 



246 MEMOIR. 

glad to have been with you on that day. I 
hope the dispensations of God's providence 
among you will be improved and blessed. 

" 2 1-2, P. M. Our meeting at eleven was 
quite interesting. The different colleges from 
which we came were called in alphabetical 
order, and reports of the state of religion pre- 
sented from most of them. I hope the meet- 
ings have not been given up this year in 
Newburyport. I feel rejoiced that you have 
been so free from colds this winter as to be 
able to attend most of the meetings, and 
visit those who are sick. 

" March 9 th. I am very grateful to you all 
for your kind remembrances of me, and only 
regret that I cannot make my own com- 
munications as interesting for you. You 
will be pleased to learn, that, through divine 
goodness, I am better than I was when I 
wrote you last. I took another cold, but 
it did not go to my lungs, and is now 
passing off. I have not yet as much vigor 
as I could desire, but as I do not have the 
labor of preaching this winter, hope to 
return in better health than when I went 
away. 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 247 

" I have not been wholly idle since I 
returned ; for, besides attending all the 
regular exercises but one, I have been 
through with one entire course of theology, 
one course of history, and have written about 
fifty letters, besides performing quite an 
amount of miscellaneous reading, and re- 
viewing a large part of my studies for the 
two past years, in preparation for exami- 
nation. 

"When I think of myself as just ready to 
go forth into the great harvest-field, I almost 
shrink back. But I feel confident that the 
Lord has bid me come thus far, and I cannot 
go back. If he designs to put me into the 
ministry, earth and hell cannot hinder ; but 
if he is about to cut me off in the midst of 
my days, he is a wise and just Being ; and 
1 though he slay me, yet will I trust in him.' 
I have been enabled to indulge a stronger 
confidence in God this winter, I think, 
than for some time before. I feel the need 
of abundant prayer. It would give me great 
pleasure if my intimate friends, such as 
Mrs. M., Mrs. J., and others would, with 
yourself, devote an afternoon to special 



248 MEMOIR. 

united prayer for me, in reference to my soon 
entering on the ministerial work. It would 
encourage me greatly if you would. The 
Sabbath noon hour has been one of unusual 
interest to me this winter. I intended before 
now to suggest a passage of Scripture to be 
read in concert. Suppose we read though 
the Epistles of Paul to Timothy and Titus ? " 

The following was addressed to a friend 
in Xewburyport. 

" I am glad you felt so free to speak of the 
subject of religion. It is truly a great thing 
to be a consistent Christian. My greatest 
sorrow is, that I have not lived more as a 
professor of our holy religion should live. 
Nothing can give us more comfort when we 
come to die. than the thought that we are 
Christ's, and that we have spent our lives in 
trying to advance the interests of his king- 
dom. If we would die peacefully, we must 
live consistently. Let us then see to it that 
we grow in grace daily, and live self-denying, 
holy lives. What if we do give up some sen- 
sual gratifications, and are thus looked upon 
with contempt by the world. What have we 
in prospect? Heaven and an eternity of 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 249 

bliss. And when our work is done, and well 
done, then, with a hope full of immortality, 
may we be admitted to the society of those 
whom you say you should so much desire to 
see, — Paul and Moses, and many more ' of 
whom the world was not worthy.' Who 
knows but that we may be permitted to 
converse on this very sentence together some- 
time during the ages of eternity ? I love to 
think that we shall know each other in 
another world, and talk over what has inter- 
ested us here. Take courage, then, my 
friend ; resist every temptation ; persevere in 
every good work ; pray often and fervently ; 
be consistent ; let your light shine ; and God 
be with you and bless you. Write me 
without fail very soon. Give my love to my 
parents, and tell them I am as well as when 
I wrote. 

" Truly yours, J. E. E." 

Journal. — "Again, I have lifted up my soul 
to God for a preparation for the great work of 
the gospel ministry. I have prayed, that, if 
consistent with his will, my life may be pro- 
longed and health granted me for the work ; 



250 MEMOIR. 

that my field of labor may bo pointed out, 
and that I may be willing to go just where 
God shall send me ; that I may be prepared 
for the great work by a baptism of the Spirit, 
by prayer, by the study of divine truth, and 
by deep, inward experience of the power of 
the truth in my own soul; so that I may 
preach to others that which I do know, and 
that which I have felt ; so that I may be c A 
workman that needeth not to be ashamed.' 

" I trust that this has not been a lost day, 
but beneficial, in many respects, to my soul. 
God grant that the prayers which I have 
offered before him to-day may be returned 
w 7 ith gracious and abundant answers of 
peace. The following Scriptures I have 
read, to-day, I trust not without profit: 
2 Chron. xxxiv. 1-8, 29-33; Ps. cxliii., 
li., lxxi. ; Ezra, ix., x. 1-17; Dan. ix. ; 
Ezek. iii. ; Ps. exxi. 

"April 26th, 1849. One year ago to-day 
I was licensed to preach the gospel. I 
would ever keep the day in remembrance. 
Often have I been permitted to speak in 
God's name in his holy house ; but O, how 
little have I really done for his glory. How 



aESIDENCfi IN PRINCETON. 251 

much have T preached for my own interest, 
and forgotten that my business was to preach 
Christ, and win lost men to Jesns. that 
God would mercifully forgive the sins, im- 
perfections and short-comings of the past 
year, and give me grace to labor for him and 
his glory during the year to come. 

" May 13fA, 1849. Through God's good- 
ness, I have reached the last Sabbath of my 
stay in this Seminary. How long the time 
seemed in prospect as I penned my record 
on the first Sabbath in my course here. 
How short are the years in the retrospect ! 
It is with deep humiliation that I recur now 
to the resolutions I made on that first Sab- 
bath and compare my course with them. I 
am ashamed to note my many and fearful 
delinquencies. O God, forgive these my 
sins, for the sake of thy dear Son. I am 
about to go forth as a herald of salvation. 
O God, send me not forth alone, but go thou 
with me. Help me to preach Christ alone. 
And give me souls for my hire. I have 
to-day fed on the body and blood of Christ. 
May I remember the covenant into wdiich I 
have anew entered, and may I have strength 



252 



MEMOIK. 



given me from on high to determine to be 
wholly the Lord's. 

« May 15th, 1849, 10 o'clock, P. M. Ano- 
ther solemn point in my life has been reached. 
I am now a graduate of Princeton Theologi- 
cal Seminary, having received my diploma 
with my classmates about an hour since, 
from the hand of the President of the Board 
of Directors, in the first Presbyterian church 
in Princeton. 

" Now w r e are to go forth under the commis- 
sion of our ascended Lord. Divine Teacher, 
go with us ; direct us to fields of labor ; give 
us success ; may we win many to thee ; and 
O, reunite us in heaven with a great multi- 
tude saved by the power of the spirit of God, 
through the instrumentality of our preach- 
ing." 

Mr. Emerson now bid farewell to the 
Seminary, and returned again to his beloved 
home, carrying with him the following flat- 
tering testimonial to his piety and scholar- 
ship, from the venerable and learned Dr. 
Miller. The communication was addressed 
to his Pastor: — 

" This letter will be delivered to you by our 



RESIDENCE IN PRINCETON. 253 

highly respected and beloved pupil, Mr. 
Emerson, whose health has again become 
delicate. 

" The more we have become acquainted 
with this amiable and highly promising 
youth, the more we have become attached to 
him, and the higher we have estimated the 
prospects of his usefulness. He was late in 
coming to the Seminary this session; but 
we have all cordially rejoiced that he did 
come. He appeared exceedingly w 7 ell be- 
fore ; but, recently, better than ever. His 
diligent attention to study ; his improvement 
by study ; his remarkably amiable temper ; 
his highly promising talents ; and the uncom- 
mon excellence of all his public performances ; 
have endeared him to us in an uncommon 
degree. We do cherish the hope that he 
is preparing to be a great blessing to the 
Church of God. 

" We have some solicitude about the health 
of Mr. Emerson. He has an impression that 
a cold eastern climate will be more favorable 
to him than a warm southern one. I confess 
my impressions are somewhat different ; and 
though I certainly could wish that he might 
22 



254 MEMOIR. 

remain an ornament and a blessing to his 
native State, yet I cannot resist the con- 
clusion that he would be more likely, with 
his delicate pulmonary system, to enjoy 
vigorous health in South Carolina or Georgia 
than in Massachusetts. I trust he will be 
divinely and mercifully directed. We shall 
all follow him with our esteem, our affections 
and our prayers. 

" I am, reverend and dear Brother, yours 
in Christian bonds. 

" Samuel Miller." 



CHAPTER VI. 

HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 

After leaving the Seminary, Mr. Emerson 
preached in several vacant pulpits in the 
vicinity of Newburyport. He was for several 
Sabbaths at Byfield, where his labors were 
greatly blessed. The church was quickened 
and revived under his ministrations, and his 
preaching was blessed to the salvation of 
souls. After he had left, several persons, 
when examined for admission to the church, 
stated that their first serious impressions 
were received under the preaching of Mr. 
Emerson. 

In September, 1849, he was invited to 
preach in the Market Hall in Newburyport, 
by a small society which had recently been 
formed. 

During the summer, several devoted and 
zealous Christians of the town felt that some 



256 



MEMOIR. 



means should be adopted to bring under the 
direct influence of the gospel those who 
were not in the habit of attending public 
worship on the Sabbath ; and hence the 
origin of this enterprise at the hall, which 
was at first entered upon as an experiment. 
The churches of the town were generally 
well filled, and were supplied with very able, 
efficient, and devoted pastors, and yet there 
was a large class of the population, and 
many strangers who had been drawn to the 
place by its manufacturing establishments, 
who were living in the neglect of Christian 
privileges. To meet the wants of these 
persons, and to extend the interests of the 
Redeemer's kingdom throughout the town, 
the public worship of God was established 
in the Market Hall, a commodious building, 
very conveniently situated for this purpose. 
Those who projected and carried forward 
the enterprise, were judicious, zealous, and 
energetic men, well qualified for the noble 
work in which they were engaged. They 
were fully aware that it was no ordinary task 
to gather a new religious society and estab- 
lish it upon a firm and permanent basis. 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 257 

They were conscious, that, to embark in the 
enterprise, would make large draughts upon 
their time and their liberality, as well as 
add to their cares and responsibilities. Yet 
they did not shrink from the work, but went 
forward, looking to God for the means of 
their success, and to heaven for their re- 
ward. 

The first Sabbath that Mr. Emerson 
preached to them, there were about ninety 
persons present. Very soon the audiences 
increased, and after a few Sabbaths a very 
strong desire was felt to retain Mr. Emer- 
son's services. His preaching and labors 
awakened a very general interest throughout 
the community, and especially among the 
young. They came in crowds to hear him, 
and went away either under strong convic- 
tions of sin, or impressed with the reality 
and importance of religion. 

A call from the people was soon extended 
to him, and they were prepared to proceed 
at once to organize a church and society, 
after the order of the Orthodox Congrega- 
tionalists. 

The question of duty presented to Mr. 
22* 



25S MEMOIR. 

Emerson was one which it was very difficult 
for him to decide. His health was preca- 
rious, and his disposition and mental habits 
fitted him to take charge of a society already 
well established, rather than to perform the 
labor of laying a new foundation, and meet 
the discouragements incident to such a work. 
But his feelings had already become strongly 
enlisted in this infant society, and the affec- 
tions of its members were very soon en- 
twined around him. This, too, was his 
native town, the residence of his parents 
and dearest friends ; and the unanimity and 
earnestness with which the call was ex- 
tended, strongly influenced his mind. The 
fact that here were the scenes of his child- 
hood, a circumstance which ordinarily might 
be regarded as unfavorable to extensive use- 
fulness, in this case was a reason why he 
should accept the invitation which he had 
received. For that childhood, as we have 
seen, was distinguished for its purity and 
piety. The little boy of ten years of age 
was a " preacher of righteousness," was an 
epistle " known and read of all men." The 
foundations for his usefulness were already 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 259 

laid. His infant prayers, his Christian de- 
portment, his earnest counsels to his school- 
mates, were all remembered. He had no 
prejudices to live down ; no enemies to 
reconcile ; no youthful indiscretions to con- 
tend against. The invitation to settle was 
made the subject of frequent and fervent 
prayer; and after seeking divine direction, 
and asking counsel of his friends, he decided 
to accept the call. 

Under the preaching of Mr. Emerson, in 
Market Hall, the audience increased to be- 
tween five and six hundred persons ; often- 
times several would leave, unable to obtain 
seats. 

In October, 1849, the society was formed 
under the name of the Whitefield * Congre- 
gational Society; and in December of the 
same year twenty-two persons, desirous of 
uniting themselves together as an Orthodox 
Congregational Church, sent out, by their 
committee, " Letters Missive " to the pastors 
of evangelical churches, inviting them to 

* The remains of the eminent and gifted Whitefield are 
deposited under the pulpit of the Federal Street Church, in 
Newhuryport. 



260 MEMOIR. 

meet in council with their delegates, on the 
1st of January, 1850. The members of the 
Federal Street Church very kindly allowed 
them the use of their house for the services 
of the day. In the afternoon of the first of 
January the church* was organized. The 
Rev. Dr. Dimmick, of Newburyport, made 
the prayer of organization, and the Rev. Dr. 
Withington, of Newbury, presented the fel- 
lowship of the churches. 

In the evening of the same day the ordi- 
nation services took place. At an early 
hour the church was densely crowded, and 
throughout the exercises a deep solemnity 
pervaded the audience. The new society, as 
well as the new pastor, had awakened a 
great interest in a large portion of the com- 
munity; and this circumstance, in connec- 
tion with the pastors youth, ardent piety, 
and eminent qualifications for the work of 
the ministry, drew together a vast audience. 
During the services f Mr. Emerson felt very 
deeply the new responsibilities and solemn 



* For a list of the members of the church, see Appendix, 
B. 

f For the order of exercises, see Appendix, C. 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 261 

duties that were being imposed upon him. 
The long cherished desire of his heart, to be 
an ordained minister of Christ, was now 
realized. The solemn charge to be a faith- 
ful, earnest minister of the gospel, he now 
received The right hand of fellowship was 
cordially and affectionately extended to him. 
He had the warm sympathy of his brethren, 
the ardent love of his people, the respect of 
the community. 

How long he would be permitted to hold 
the sacred office to which he had been 
inducted, God only knew. As I looked 
upon his frail form and pale countenance, 
I could not but have my fears that the time 
might not be far distant, when we should be 
summoned to the same pulpit to perform 
other services for our beloved brother. But 
my prayer to Heaven was, that he might 
long be spared, and that he might be the 
instrument of gathering a great multitude 
of immortal beings into the fold of Christ. 

On returning home after the exercises of 
the evening, Mr. Emerson made the follow- 
ing short entry in his Journal : — 

"Jan. 1st, 1850. I have, this evening, 



262 



MEMOIR. 



been solemnly ordained as pastor of a church 
and people. O Lord, who is sufficient for 
these things ] Hold thou me up, and I 
shall be safe. Help me, O my God, to live 
and to act as a minister of the gospel," 

On the first Sabbath after his ordination, 
he preached to a very large and attentive 
audience, and the day was one of great 
interest and solemnity to his church. Much 
prayer was offered up to God, that he would 
strengthen his young servant, and bless his 
efforts to win souls to Christ. About this 
time Mr. Emerson held an interesting cor- 
respondence w r ith a young friend, who was 
awakened and hopefully converted under 
his preaching : thus showing that in the 
midst of his ministerial duties he did not 
neglect opportunities of doing good to indi- 
viduals. Before speaking of his pulpit and 
pastoral labors, I will give some extracts 
from these letters. 

"My dear Friend — 
" I hope that this day, like those which 
have preceded it, finds you in the possession 
and enjoyment of the Christian's hope, and 
that you can say with all your heart, 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 263 

1 What sinners value I resign ; 
Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine/ 

Let me advise you, as one who is deeply 
interested in your spiritual progress, 

" First — Never be ashamed of being call- 
ed a Christian. Always be found on the side 
of God. Let the world take knowledge of 
you that you walk with Jesus. 

" Second — Be very particular and punc- 
tual about your times for secret prayer. 

1 Prayer is the Christian's vital breath, 
The Christian's native air.' 

Let nothing tempt you to put by your regular 
season for morning and evening devotion. 

" Be an active Christian. Do all the good 
you can while you live. Seek opportunities 
to talk with your impenitent friends. 

* Tell to sinners round, 
What a dear Saviour you have found.' 

t; I know you will be a cheerful Christian. 
I love your cheerfulness ; you need not re- 
press that. 

' Religion never was designed 
To make our pleasures less.' 

" Come and see me as often as you can 
spare a moment. Your visits are always 



264 



MEMOIR. 



welcome. I never tire of seeing you or 
talking with you. Don't let Satan tempt 
you with doubts. Look to Jesus. Be faith- 
ful unto death, and God will give you a 
crown of life. Write me soon. 

" Your friend, sincerely and affectionately, 

" J. E. E." 

" I feel very grateful to you for your visit 
last evening. It did me good to see and 
converse with you. Especially am I thank- 
ful that we were permitted to bow the knee 
together before our Father who is in heaven. 
O, my friend John, it gives me unspeakable 
delight to have you, whom I regard so 
highly, numbered among the followers of 
Jesus. ' Follow on to know the Lord. ' 
' Keep your heart with all diligence.' Live 
near to Jesus. c Pray without ceasing.' My 
own mind has been much solemnized to-day 
by the subject on which I have been writing. 
O, how swiftly our time passes ! But what 
of this, if we are prepared for eternity % 

" Do not fail to let me hear from you 
on Monday. Put this into your strong box, 
and don't keep it long in your pocket, ' I 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 265 

don't care how soon' you come and see m( 4 , 
or let me hear from you. 

" Truly your friend, J. E. E." 

11 Newburyport, Saturday, P. M., January 5th ; 1850. 

" This has been to me a busy, exciting, and 
solemn week. I feel fatigued, and rather 
low spirited. It is now between three and 
four o'clock, and I have had my pen in hand 
almost ever since breakfast, not getting 
through as usual at two o'clock. Therefore, 
I do not feel in a bright mood. But I could 
not refrain from writing once more, to ex- 
press my interest in you. 

" God bless you, my dear friend, and cause 
you to grow in grace, every day. May he 
make you eminently useful, and prolong 
your life in his service. 

"January 6th, 1850. I thought I would 
write you a journal letter this week, giving 
you some little account of every day. To- 
day has been to me an interesting and 
important time. I have, for the first time, 
preached as an ordained minister of Christ. 
The texts were in 1st Timothy, iv. 6, 8 ; 
Ps. xxxix. 4. My audience was attentive 
23 



266 



MEMOIR. 



and solemn, and I hope some good was 
done. I baptized two children, named 
Elizabeth Smith and George Forrest. Had 
about one hundred and twenty at the Sab- 
bath school. 

" Had the pleasure of discerning your 
mother's cheerful face among my hearers. 

" January 1th. I was afraid that, feeling 
low spirited, I did not appear as cordial to 
you when I saw you this morning as usual, 
and that you might have noticed it. It was 
not intentional, if it was so ; you must 
overlook it. Yesterday was a solemn and 
difficult day for me. I felt how much re- 
sponsibility was resting on me, in the care 
of those souls ; and I awoke this morning, 
weary in body and depressed in mind. 

" Will you do me the favor to learn the 
following beautiful lines at your earliest 
convenience 1 I think you will be pleased 
with them. 

' If human kindness meets return, 
And owns the grateful tie, 
If tender thoughts within us burn, 
To feel a friend is nigh,' &c. 

" January 12th. I love to converse with 
you on religious subjects, and answer the 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 267 

questions which you put to me. May you 
know more and more of the Bible, and may 
your eyes be opened to behold wondrous 
things out of God's Law. 

" Host assured of my earnest, sincere, and 
growing friendship. May we be friends in 
heaven." 

Extract written the day after his offici- 
ating for the first time at a wedding : 

" Dear J., — I was gratified at your desire 
to attend the ceremony. You may think of 
it in after years. If you and I should live 
to grow old, never let us forget that in the 
same room we first had that deeply interest- 
ing conversation concerning your precious 
soul. O, John, I reflect with more pleasure 
on the conversation of that evening than I 
should on a score of weddings. 

" If I am taken away before you are, 
come and stand, once in a while, by the 
grave of him who loves you as a friend and 
a Christian brother. 

" We have added one more to the land- 
marks which we may look back on, as we 
travel on in life together. We will not 
forget the first religious conversation, the 



268 MEMOIR. 

first prayer, and the first marriage cere- 
mony. 

"May the God of heaven grant you 
blessings more abundant than I can wish 
for you. May we meet in that world where 
f they neither marry, nor are given in mar- 
riage, but are as the angels of God.' 
" Truly, your friend, 

" J. E. Emerson." 

" Sunday Eve, 5J P. M., February 17th. 

" O, John, John, John ! I am worn out, dis- 
couraged, almost sick. I have labored hard, 
and it seems as if I had almost spent my 
strength for naught. To you, Sunday is a 
refreshing day, a day of rest. To me, it is 
a day of anxiety, toil, and fatigue. I don't 
know when I have felt so worn out as I 
have to-day. O, how I wish I could hear 
singing- after my labors on the Sabbath ; but 
every harp is hung upon the willows, in this 
house. Alas ! we cannot sing. I am almost 
inclined to learn. I want to have you tell 
me in your next letter something about your 
spiritual exercises. Does the Bible still 
seem like a new book 1 Do you still main- 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 269 

tain and enjoy constant secret prayer? I 
fear we have not talked as much about 
religion lately as we ought to. I long to 
have another evening when we can pray 
together, and talk about God, heaven, the 
soul, and eternity. 

" Has not this been a beautiful day ? I 
baptized a little boy this afternoon. Preached 
from Nehemiah ii. 18. 

" Ever yours, 

" J. E. E." 

" Newburyport, February 26th, 1850. 

" My dear friend John, — I am not un- 
mindful that this beautiful morning's sun 
ushers*in the eighteenth anniversary of your 
birth-day. Eighteen years ago, ' in yonder 
chamber, it was joyfully told a man-child 
is born.' He who now writes these lines to 
you was all unconscious that God -on that 
day was sending into the world one on 
whom his affections would so much fasten, 
and one, too, whose own warm mantle of 
love and friendship would encircle. 

"Welcome the 26th day of February, 
A. D. 1832. Thrice welcome each return- 
23* 



270 MEMOIR. 

ing anniversary of it. But how doubly 
joyful is this particular anniversary, from 
the fact that during the past year you date 
your spiritual birth. You have, as I trust, 
been c born again,' and are now living a life 
in Christ Jesus. Accept, my dear friend, 
the hearty congratulations which are due on 
such a day as this. Accept the earnest 
wishes of your friend that many such anni- 
versaries may be in store for you. Long 
life, health, peace, usefulness, and prosperity 
be yours. May you live a full lifetime, 
with Heaven's choicest blessings resting on 
you. ' And when your labor here is done, 
may devout men bear you to your burial ; 
and may your rich memorial, graven on the 
hearts of your generation, and written in 
the book of Heaven, be, " He was a man of 
God."' 

" Will you join me in special prayer for 
each other, just before retiring to rest to- 
night ? Let us, in the silence of our own 
chambers, commit ourselves and each other 
to a merciful and covenant-keeping God. 

" God bless you, my dear young friend. 
" Very affectionately yours, 

" J. E. Emerson." 



MfS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 271 



" February 12th, 1850. 

" My dear friend John, — I often neglect, 
or forget to say some things to you when 
you are in my study, which I want to say 
very much. And sometimes, too, there are 
things wdiich I can better say in a letter 
than I can to you personally. If you had 
not assured me more than once that it did 
not trouble you to receive so many letters, I 
should feel that I w r as indeed becoming bur- 
densome. Whenever you feel that you have 
heard enough, you must write the word 
4 stop • on your letters. 

" Many of my notes and conversations I 
look back upon with regret, as being of 
little credit to myself, or of little profit to 
you. But if I know my own heart, I desire 
your best good, and highest happiness. My 
wish and prayer are that God would make 
you eminently useful here on earth, and fit 
you for everlasting happiness in his blessed 
kingdom. I have been looking back with 
much interest upon the time of our ac- 
quaintance, and especially upon our inter- 
views the first of the present winter. The 



272 MEMOIR. 

evening of the third of December is memo- 
rable on more accounts than one ; and we 
have made it still more memorable since, by 
the intimacy of our friendship. 

" God has led you along, I trust, by his 
most Holy Spirit, and made you a partaker 
of his rich grace in Jesus Christ. What 
thanks are due from you to him who has 
delivered you from everlasting death ! 

" I have been for some time anticipating 
the day when you would have brought be- 
fore your mind the question on which we 
conversed last evening, viz., the propriety of 
your asking admission to the church ; and 
you must not, you will not suppose, that I 
had felt wholly indifferent as to the particu- 
lar church with which you should connect 
yourself. I should have been possessed of 
less than common sensibility if I had felt no 
degree of interest in the matter. We had 
talked together freely from the outset of 
your Christian course. You had poured 
your joys and sorrows into my ear, and I 
had told you freely all my feelings. It was 
a question, however, that I thought you 
ought to decide wholly for yourself; and 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 273 

you Avill bear me witness that I have not 
attempted to influence you. Of this one 
thing, however, you may rest assured, wher- 
ever you go, my prayers will follow you, and 
my love and friendship remain with you." 

" My dear friend John, — It is late, but I 
cannot, of coarse, close the day without send- 
ing you a line. I have been full of business 
all the afternoon, though I finished sermon- 
izing about one o'clock. I was on the keen 
lookout for you all the forenoon, hoping 
every moment to hear your feet on the stair- 
case. And at tw r o o'clock I thought you 
certainly would come. 

" The impression on my own mind made 
by your visit last evening w r as very delight- 
ful. I don't know how I could feel more 
ardently attached to you, but it seems as if a • 
new interest w r as awakened every time you 
came. I delight to pray with you, and to 
converse with you. I can cordially adopt 
every sentiment in your last letter, feeling 
towards you ' as a brother to a brother.' I 
entirely forgot the Sunday school lesson, 
concerning which you wrote. Why did you 



274 MEMOIR. 

not speak about it? I regret every evening 
that I have so much of myself and my own 
performances to talk about. Do pardon it, 
my dear friend. There is a world where we 
shall be' free from selfishness and sin. May 
we meet there. I should have been gratified 
to have gone over that lesson with you, and 
given you what assistance I could. It vexed 
me to think I forgot it. 

" I have a special request to make of you 
for to-morrow morning. I wish you to re- 
member me in prayer at a quarter before nine 
in the morning. You know r it is an impor- 
tant and solemn day with me, and I need 
much prayer. I will remember you at the 
same time. We will feel that we are praying 
for each other. I want you to pray that I 
may be assisted and blessed in the exercises 
of the day, and I will remember you in rela- 
tion to the matter concerning which I spoke 
last evening." 

" February 23d, 1850. 

" My dear friend John, — If it were not 
Saturday — the day when I try not to fail to 
let you have a letter, I w r ould not attempt, in 
my present gloomy state of feeling, to write. 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 275 

Perhaps I ought not to, as it is; and per- 
haps I do wrong to communicate to you in 
any manner my gloomy thoughts and feel- 
ings. There are clays when I feel sad — 
unaccountably sad. I have endeavored, in 
vain, to throw off this feeling to-day. I have 
been in and out, but do not get relief. 

" One month ago you and I were about 
starting for Wenham. I wish I felt as well 
as I did on that day. I do not anticipate 
much from my visit now ; should be glad to 
be at home to-morrow. 

" I feel much disappointed that no even- 
ing has offered itself this week, when w r e 
could be together and converse on the sub- 
ject of religion. I feel that I have much 
that I want to say on the subject of experi- 
mental, practical religion. I sometimes feel 
as if I was ready to drop every subject but 
that. I know that much which I say is use- 
less, and worse than useless. But how to do 
better, there is the difficulty. 

" I feel impressed with the fact, that we 
have but one life to live, and but one work 
to do. That life is short, and that work all- 
important. The thought came across me 



276 MEMOIR. 

with much force yesterday, that more than 
one quarter of my own life had passed away. 
And how little, if any, have I done of the 
work that was assigned me to do on earth. 

" I sometimes wish I could live my last 
few years over again. But that is a vain 
wish. I should probably do as I have done 
heretofore. The best course is to profit by 
past experience, and improve present time. 

" I hope that many days of happiness and 
usefulness are before you." 

Mr. Emerson had now entered fully upon 
his pastoral and pulpit labors, and every day 
he was gaining upon the confidence and 
affection of his people. They loved him 
with a devotion which is seldom felt towards 
a pastor, and their love was most cordially 
reciprocated. I indulge in no extravagance 
when I say, that in the ties that united 
them, there was far more than usual tender- 
ness and strength. This society, with their 
pastor, gave to the writer the most perfect 
idea of a spiritual shepherd, and his flock, 
that he ever received. It was the constant 
desire of the pastor to feed his people with 
the bread of life; to lead them into green 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 



277 



pastures, and recline with them beside the 
still waters of salvation. He felt a deep 
personal interest in every member of the 
flock. The sick he was ready to visit, and 
for the afflicted he had a heart full of sym- 
pathy. He rejoiced with those that rejoiced, 
and wept with those that wept. From several 
letters that he addressed to the bereaved, I 
select the following, which was written to a 
young father who had lost a child, and 
which shows the tenderness and warm sym- 
pathy of his heart. 

" Newburyport, March 27th, 1850. 

" My dear Friend, — Most deeply have I 
sympathized with you in your recent severe 
affliction. I have shed no public tears, but 
in the silence of my own retirement have I 
mourned over your loss, and prayed that 
you might be supported. This is the first 
cup of sorrow which you have been called 
to drink. This is the first practical lesson 
you have learned in regard to earth's sorrows. 
The tender bud which God had put into 
your hands has withered away. You were 
looking with an interest which none but 
24 



278 



MEMOIR. 



a parent can feel, for it to open its little 
leaves, and delight you with its fragrance. 
But ' the Lord gave, and the Lord hath 
taken away.' 

" And now it only remains, that we who 
have professed ourselves friends in the time 
of your joy and sunshine, should prove the 
sincerity of our friendship by our sympathy 
in the time of your darkness and affliction, 
and that you should give us an example of 
Christian submission, in accordance with the 
principles of the holy religion which you 
have professed. 

"How willingly would the friends, who 
stood about your lovely dying infant, have 
made any sacrifice to snatch the child from 
death. But, O how powerless we find our- 
selves to be in such an hour. Agonized as 
our hearts were to hear his groans, and wit- 
ness his sufferings, not one of us all, nor all 
of us united, had the ability to lessen one 
pang, or repress one groan ; I felt then as I 
feel now — how great is God — how r less 
than nothing in comparison with him, is the 
creature man. 

" I feel smitten, my dear friend, as well as 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 279 

yourself For I lovccl the infant not only 
on account of my high regard for the parents, 
but because I considered him a boy of un- 
common promise, and I was watching with 
great interest for his development of mind 
and body. But he is gone. That little 
coffin-lid has closed upon the fondest expec- 
tations, and the most cherished hopes. The 
beautiful and smiling countenance has be- 
stowed its last smile of recognition upon the 
father that idolized the child, and upon the 
mother that doted upon it. No more kisses 
shall fall from those lips, and the arms of 
the cherub, which once folded so lovingly 
about the neck of its parents, are resting 
forever on its own motionless bosom. O, 
how unsparing is death — how T cruel is the 
grave ! 

" But blessed be God for the lively hopes 
that triumph over this sorrow, death, and 
corruption. Blessed be he who has brought 
to light eternal life. By his death and resur- 
rection, you have the assurance that while 
the mortal body of your lovely child sleeps 
in yonder grave-yard, his little, redeemed, 
immortal spirit lives in everlasting glory; 



280 MEMOIR. 

for 'of such is the kingdom of heaven/ 
Many years may roll over your heads, and 
you may be called to lay away other loved 
friends in the tomb. Your own time to de- 
part may be late in life ; but, if faithful unto 
death, you shall see your infant boy again. 
Who knows but that as you step behind the 
veil, which separates things temporal from 
things eternal, the angelic voice of your first- 
born may give you the welcome to eternal 
bliss ? 

" I trust I have said nothing, my dear 
friend, to harrow up your feelings ; I desire 
to commend you and your beloved partner 
to God. Let us all give heed to what God 
is saying to us in this time of his rebuke. 
Let us be better for having been afflicted. 
Let us have our conversation in heaven 
more than ever before. Let us, as ' strangers 
and pilgrims,' live by faith on the Son of 
God ; and may we have part, at least, with 
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, in the kingdom 
of heaven, and join in praising our Redeemer 
with the i millions of infant souls ' that c com- 
pose the family above.' Such is the prayer 
of your sincere and constant friend. 

"J. E. E." 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 281 

In the spiritual progress of the church, 
too, the pastor felt a strong interest. He 
labored and prayed that every member might 
be entirely consecrated to God ; and he had 
the happiness of feeling that he was sur- 
rounded by those who would co-operate 
with him in all his plans for doing good. 

But he was specially anxious for the con- 
version of .the impenitent. Their condition 
weighed as a heavy burden upon his spirit. 
Xor was it long before he received indica- 
tions of the divine favor. The same holy 
dove that hovered over him in childhood, 
while in college and in the seminarv. con- 
tinued to abide with him in his new field of 
labor. The same bright cloud guided him 
by day, the same pillar of fire by night. He 
seemed to carry about with him a revival of 
religion in his heart. His warm and ardent 
piety impressed all with whom he came in 
contact ; streams of religious influence flowed 
forth from his conversation, his prayers, his 
remarks in the social prayer meeting, and 
his preaching. Even before his ordination, 
there were evidences of the presence of the 
Holy Spirit in his congregation. At first a 
24* 



282 MEMOIR. 

few were found to be under conviction of 
sin, and soon many were anxiously inquiring 
what they must do to be saved. Mr. Emer- 
son soon discovered the interest which was 
awakened, and appointed meetings for relig- 
ious conversation. Several persons, who 
attended these meetings, have kindly fur- 
nished me with their impressions of the 
revival, and of the scenes in which their 
pastor's fidelity and zeal were strikingly 
conspicuous. 

One writes : — 

" Never shall I forget, while attending 
the meetings for inquiry, the kind, the ten- 
der, the encouraging words which fell from 
our pastor's lips. It seemed as if he wished 
to take each and every one of those pre- 
cious souls, and lead them at once to that 
Saviour whom they sought. At the first 
meeting, as well as those that followed, the 
Spirit's influence was manifested in a won- 
derful manner. It appeared as though God 
had touched his servant's lips with a coal 
from off his altar, so touching were his 
appeals, so applicable his remarks to each 
individual present, so much interest mani- 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 28*$ 

festcd in the eternal welfare of others. None 
but those present at those seasons can fully 
realize his worth. After conversing with 
each person by remarks suited to their situ- 
ation, encouraging those that were hoping 
yet trembling, urging the inquirer to de- 
cide immediately for Christ, then he would 
make a few general remarks, after which he 
offered a fervent prayer, committing them 
each to God. His efforts were blessed, by 
the aid of the Holy Spirit, to the conversion 
of many souls, whom, we trust, he will be 
able to welcome to that heavenly world to 
which he has gone. 

" Ever anxious to do good, he soon after 
appointed meetings for the study of Bun- 
yan's Pilgrim's Progress, wMch were very 
interesting and instructive. But he was 
soon deprived of the pleasure of attending 
these meetings, as the strong hand of disease 
was preying heavily upon him, and he was 
obliged, though very reluctantly, to relin- 
quish them." 

Another writes : — 

" During the revival of 1850, I attended 
the inquiry meetings held by Rev. J. E. 



284 MEMOIR. 

Emerson, and I always found them interest- 
ing and profitable. He seemed to forget 
himself in the solicitude he felt for others, 
lest some might quench the Holy Spirit. 
While he strove to impress upon the mind 
of the sinner the truth, that he had a part to 
act in the salvation of his soul, yet he never 
for a moment gave him reason to think that 
his own good works would save him, but he 
ever ascribed all to the sovereign grace of 
God. In his conversation with the inquirer, 
he made the path of duty so plain, that no 
one could mistake the way. With him, 
Christ was all, and in all. It was, he said, 
simply to ' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, 
and thou shalt be saved.' I think that all 
that attended' those meetings can testify to 
his faithfulness. For some time after the 
inquirers had indulged a hope, he had 
weekly meetings for the purpose of* convers- 
ing with them ; and he would advise, en- 
courage, and warn them in a most affectionate 
manner, ever urging them to be active and 
consistent Christians." 

Another says: — 

" Such appeals, such melting invitations 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 285 

as fell from his lips at that time, cannot be 
described. He was truly baptized with the 
Holy Ghost, and every one who beheld his 
beaming countenance, and heard the heav- 
enly words he uttered, took knowledge of 
him that ' he had been with Jesus.' " 

So strong was his desire for the salvation 
of souls, and so deeply and fully did he enter 
into the revival, that he was often deprived 
of sleep. Yet, though exhausted and wasted 
by disease, he did not relax his efforts. His 
increased paleness seemed to give increased 
force to his words, ^while his failing strength 
led him to give himself to the work of his 
Master with redoubled energy. Among those 
who attended the inquiry meetings, were 
several interesting and promising young 
men, who became hopefully converted. 

So great was the work, that Mr. Emerson 
was obliged to call upon his Christian breth- 
ren for assistance, and they caii all bear tes- 
timony to his faithfulness. Some were aston- 
ished at his skill and wisdom in meeting the 
several cases that were brought before him. 
So intense was the feeling at times, that many 
present were bathed in tears. 



2S6 



MEMOIR. 



Although the weather was often very in- 
clement, yet it neither lessened the number 
present, nor the interest of the meetings. 
As the result of the revival, twenty-nine 
persons became hopefully converted, and 
made a public profession of their faith in 
Christ. 

On one Sabbath, Mr. Emerson preached 
from the text, " Escape for thy life, look not 
behind thee," &c. The sermon was blessed 
to the awakening of six persons in the con- 
gregation. He preached the same discourse 
in another pulpit, and under its influence 
several others were induced to make their 
escape to the mount of refuge. 

Another states that his manner was so 
winning, and his words so full of tenderness 
and love, that even strangers were very soon 
affected by them. Sometimes he would rise 
to speak when the hearts of those around 
him were almost crushed under the weight of 
sin and guilt, and before he had closed, his 
soothing words would seem to calm their 
agitation, and remove their burdens. At 
other times he would rise when all was cold, 
and no apparent interest w r as felt, and before 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 287 

he had concluded, many would be ready to 
exclaim, " What must I do to be saved]" 

On one occasion when the terrors of the 
law had been forcibly exhibited by another, 
and the hearts of many were filled with pain 
and deep anxiety, he arose, and in an atti- 
tude and with an expression of countenance 
that indicated strong feeling, he exclaimed, 
" Shiloh has come ; yes, Shiloh has come, 
and he is ready to accept any who will go to 
him. Oh, sinner, flee for protection into his 
arms ! Flee now ; for now is the accepted 
time. ' Be wise to-day, 'tis madness to 
defer."' 

As Mr. Emerson saw the work advancing, 
he rejoiced greatly. His most ardent desires 
were now gratified, and although his strength 
was wasting away, yet his joy was every day 
increasing. 

Besides his interest in inquirers and young 
converts, he felt very solicitous for the pros- 
perity of the Sabbath School. This he re- 
garded as the nursery of the church ; and 
he delighted to converse with the scholars, 
and encourage their teachers. One day he 
remarked to a friend, " The Sabbath School 



288 MEMOIR. 

is like a beautiful garden, in which I can 
walk and be refreshed, after the labors of 
the day." 

The communion seasons with his beloved 
people he enjoyed very highly. He antici- 
pated them with great interest, and endeav- 
ored to prepare his own heart, and the 
hearts of his church, for the solemn meeting 
with the Saviour at his own table. He 
refers to these seasons in his journal, in 
which, however, his engagements and health 
allowed him to make but few entries. The 
following are among the last that he made : 

" February 5 th. On the last Sabbath I, for 
the first time, administered the sacrament of 
the Lord's Supper to my church. On the 
Wednesday evening previous I preached, 
and ordained the two brethren who had 
been chosen by the members of the church 
as its deacons, (Mr. William Thurston and 
Mr. William Forbes.) The Sabbath of our 
first communion, the weather was stormy, 
but nearly if not quite all of our members 
were present, and a number from other 
churches. Three were added by profession, 
and four (including myself) by letter. One 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 2S9 

of those added by profession, was baptized. 
It was an interesting and a solemn day. 
God grant it may prove to have been a day 
rich in spiritual profit and consolation. 

"April \3tli. Last Sunday, I again ad- 
ministered the Sacrament of the Supper, 
and admitted twenty-nine persons to my 
church ; twenty-one by profession and eight 
by letter. My father and mother, and my 
dear friend, Mr. Charles Morse, were among 
those received by letter. Nine of the per- 
sons received by profession (young ladies) I 
baptized. In the afternoon, I baptized six 
children. It w r as a most solemn and in- 
teresting day. The hall in which we wor- 
ship was crowded to excess. This addition 
is the fruit of a glorious revival, which God 
has been carrying on among us, since last 
December. All praise be to Him who has 
done for us such marvellous things. 

" April 26th. Two years ago to-day, I 
was licensed to preach/ The goodness of 
God to me thus far, in enabling me to hold 
forth ' the Word of Life,' causes me to make 
mention of it to-day. 

" September 2!th, 1850. One more anni- 
25 



290 MEMOIK. 

versary has dawned upon me. I am twenty- 
seven years old to-day. I cannot say, as in 
former years, that I have enjoyed uninter- 
rupted health during the year, for much of 
the time I have been sick. I find that the 
seeds of mortality are as thickly sown in me 
as in others. I know not but God may 
have appointed an early death for me, but I 
rejoice that my times are in his hand, and 
that the number of my days is with him. 
During the year he has been pleased to 
make me a minister of the everlasting 
gospel, and to bless me with an interesting 
revival of religion among my church and 
people. Praised be his name for these 
things. O, for grace to live this year near 
to God. 

"December 1st Administered the com- 
munion to my beloved church for the sixth 
time. It was just seventeen years since I 
trust I found peace in believing. 

"December Slst. * Finished the reading of 
the Bible, which I commenced Sept. 27th, 
1848. To the best of my knowledge, I 
have read it every word aloud." 

On the first Sabbath in January, 1851, 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 291 

Mr. Emerson felt a very strong desire to 
preach to his people ; but the state of his 
health would not permit it. He therefore 
made to them the following remarks : 

" It is w r ell known to most of you, my 
hearers, that the anniversary of our or- 
ganization, as a church, and of my own 
ordination, occurred on the first day of the 
present year. One year ago to-day, I 
preached to you my first sermons as a 
settled pastor. I then looked forward with 
fond anticipations to the recurrence of this 
anniversary, as a day w r hen we should to- 
gether recount the joys and sorrows of the 
past, and look forward hopefully to the 
future. But to my great sorrow of heart, I 
find myself baffled in the first attempt. It 
would have been extremely gratifying to my 
own feelings, had I been able to preach 
to-day. I had even selected my text, and 
formed the plan of a sermon, but I found 
myself unequal to the task of its execution. 
A few facts, which I thought might be of 
interest to you, and which I had intended to 
embody in a discourse, I have noted down. 

" Up to the first of June I was able to 



292 MEMOIR. 

minister regularly on the Sabbath. Since 
that time my public services have been in a 
great measure suspended. But I have en- 
deavored to do what I could during the 
week. I find on reference to my record, that 
I have made, during the year, four hundred 
and thirty-five pastoral calls. I have pro- 
bably received as many again, so that, dur- 
ing the year, I have attended to more than 
twelve hundred calls on matters pertaining 
to the great duties, for which you, called rne 
to labor among you. I have baptized during 
the year twenty-nine individuals, viz., twelve 
children and seventeen adults. I have sol- 
emnized thirteen marriages, and been called 
to attend eleven funerals. The church which, 
one year ago to-day, numbered twenty in- 
dividuals, now numbers eighty-nine. The 
congregation, which, at the beginning of the 
year, was fluctuating and uncertain, has 
now become fixed in its character ; and so 
far as I can judge, we have an afternoon 
attendance generally of from four hundred 
and fifty to five hundred persons. On every 
Sabbath of the year, the doors of this house 
have been thrown open, and the word of 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 293 

life dispensed. There have been one hun- 
dred and fourteen sermons preached here the 
past year. Through the goodness of God, 
there has been the small number of only 
six deaths in families connected with this 
congregation. Four infants have died, and 
two adults — Captain F., lost at sea, and 
Mrs. W., recently deceased. 

" For myself I can truly say, that not- 
withstanding my affliction, the past has been 
one of the happiest years of my life. The 
lines have fallen unto me in pleasant places, 
and I have a goodly heritage. The in- 
creasing affection of a beloved people to 
their pastor, their untiring spirit of kind- 
ness, their many words of encouragement, 
their almost innumerable gifts, demand of 
me this public return of my warm and most 
heartfelt thanks. From the little girl who 
begged of her mother that she might have 
something to send to her minister, up to 
those ladies who furnished the warm winter 
garments ; to each and to all, I present a 
pastor's warmest thanks. Nor do I count 
these, alone, gifts. For every pressure of the 
hand of friendship ; for every tender inquiry 
25* 



294 MEMOIR. 

after my health ; for every prayer offered in 
my behalf, I thank you all. God bless you, 
my dear people, and make this new year 
happy to you through all its course. When 
I shall be permitted to preach to you again, 
God only knows. May he, in infinite mercy, 
speed the day. 

" But of one thing be assured. Whether 
the warm gales of the next summer blow on 
my invigorated frame, and more healthy 
cheek, or whether they wave the grass over 
my new-made grave, be assured that the 
interests of this church and people shall be 
ever near my heart. And while a breath or 
a pulse remains, will I seek her peace and 
prosperity. Be assured, that 

' For her my tears shall fall, 
For her my prayers ascend ; 
To her my cares and toils be given 
Till toils and cares shall end.' " 

When the speaker took his seat, appa- 
rently exhausted by this effort, the deepest 
emotion was manifested by the whole au- 
dience. His allusion to his own grave 
touched and melted every heart. All felt 
that, as this was his first, so it was, in all 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 295 

human probability, his last anniversary with 
his people. They felt that the fair form 
now before them, must soon moulder in 
the cold grave; that the eye that beamed 
upon them with so much affection, must 
soon be closed ; that the lips that had told 
them of Jesus and of Heaven, must soon 
be sealed in death. They thought of the 
long, long silence in the grave of that 
voice, the sweet tones of which were now 
so clear and distinct. The remembrance, 
too, of their pastor's instructions, entreaties, 
appeals, faithful, untiring labors, and the 
crowd of interesting associations that rush- 
ed into the mind, perfectly overpowered 
the assembly. There were hearts there 
whose emotions language cannot describe ; 
hearts from which the impressions of that 
hour will never, never fade away. 

Mr. Emerson continued, although so feeble, 
to attend public worship, and occasionally 
he read a hymn or offered a short prayer- 
He was anxious to devote his little remain- 
ing strength to God. It was my privilege 
to spend a Sabbath with him about this 
time, and in all the exercises of the day, 



296 



MEMOIR. 



and in every thing pertaining to the society, 
he took the liveliest interest. In the after- 
noon the impenitent were particularly ad- 
dressed ; and on his way home, he expressed 
a very earnest desire that the discourse 
might be blessed to their salvation. 

About the middle of January he said to 
a friend, — "I feel that a crisis in my case 
is near at hand. I have a desire that the 
church should hold a day of fasting and 
prayer on account of my health. I want 
to try the power of prayer, and shall not 
feel that every means has been used till 
this is tried. It has been a great struggle 
to my mind, to give up preaching. When 
I think that five hundred precious souls 
are expecting to hear the gospel from my 
lips, that a dear church is looking up to 
me for counsel, I feel that it requires more 
prayer yet, to bring my mind to a right 
state." 

At another time he said, — "I begin to 
feel willing to leave the matter with God, 
though my prayer daily is, ' Lord, spare 
me yet a little longer, that I may preach 
Christ again to my dear people ; I have felt 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 297 

a greater desire than ever since my illness, 
to preach Christ once more.' " 

The day of fasting and prayer was ap- 
pointed, and when it arrived, Mr. Emerson 
made the following entry, which is the last 
in his journal : — 

"Jan. 29th, 1851. This day has been 
set apart by the members of my church, 
as a day of fasting and prayer, for the 
recovery of their pastor's health. I have 
not preached for eleven Sabbaths on account 
of ill health, and indeed have preached but 
very little since last June. God has laid 
his hand heavily upon me. I am troubled 
with cough, loss of strength and appetite, 
&c. What God is intending to do with 
me I know not, but I think I desire ' to lie 
passive in his hands, and know no will 
but his.' If I am to be raised up, the 
blessing of God alone can do it. O that 
God would help my church to offer up this 
day, the prayer of faith which ' shall save 
the sick.' " 

On this occasion he addressed to the 
members of his church the following com- 
munication : — 



298 



MEMOIR. 



" Dear Christian Friends, — I have been 
looking forward to this day with the deep- 
est anxiety and interest. For many months, 
as you well know, God has laid the hand 
of affliction upon me. I have been deprived 
of the pleasure of performing the more 
active duties of the ministry among you. 
My strength also has failed me, and ' I am 
like a broken vessel.' In all these difficul- 
ties, you, my dear people, have deeply sym- 
pathized, and have felt yourselves afflicted 
also. 

" Could your kindness and sympathy have 
restored me, I should now have health and 
vigor enough. But the hand of God yet 
presses heavily upon me, and from him alone 
deliverance must be sought. While I am 
aware that, for a long time, much prayer 
has been offered up in my behalf, both in 
public and in private, I have still felt 
strongly desirous that a day should be ap- 
pointed, when the prayers of this church 
should go up unitedly to the throne of 
grace. My heart was deeply moved at the 
favorable reception with which my proposal 
met. I have again and again entreated the 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 299 

Lord to be with you on this day, and give 
you the spirit of fervent prevailing prayer. 

" It would be impossible for me to go 
over the instances recorded in the Bible, 
of the answers given to fervent prayer. 
Read, if you please, at your meetings to- 
day, the thirty-eighth chapter of Isaiah. 
Why may we not expect a like answer, 
if we offer up the prayer of faith? Re- 
member, too, my dear friends, that we have 
committed ourselves before the world. Many 
listened when notice was given that you 
were going to try the power of prayer in 
behalf of a sick pastor. Will you not 
entreat the Most High to convince them 
that he does hear and answer prayer? 

"But I do not ask you to pray uncon- 
ditionally for my life. I desire to live 
longer only if it is God's will. If I am 
spared, pray for me, that I may be more 
useful, may set a holier example, may be 
a better Christian and a better minister. 
If, after all our prayers and efforts, God 
should indicate his design of taking me 
away from earth, pray for me that I may 
have heartfelt resignation to the divine 



300 MEMOIR. 

will; a well-grounded hope, the clear as- 
surance of faith; an easy departure, and 
that I may be able, *on a dying bed, to tes- 
tify to the power of our holy religion. 

" My prayers will mingle with yours, 
to-day, brethren and friends ; this day will 
not soon be forgotten ; its results take hold 
on eternity. O that God would manifest 
himself to us to-day, as he has never done 
before. 

"While I live, you and your interests 
will be ever near my heart. With my ear- 
nest prayer for God's blessing upon you, I 
remain, 

" Your sincere friend, 

" and affectionate pastor, 

" John E. Emerson." 

This was, indeed, a solemn day to this 
afflicted people. They listened to this short 
address from their pastor with tears in their 
eyes; and fervent were their supplications, 
that he might be spared to them. Yet, 
they could not but feel, that the time was 
not far distant, when they must separate. 
The evidences of disease were too apparent 
to leave now any room for hope. 



HIS ORDINATION AND SETTLEMENT. 301 

Towards the latter part of February, Mr. 
E. felt almost too feeble to attend public 
worship. The last Sabbath that he was out, 
which was March 2d, he baptized a child 
who w r as named after himself. The Satur- 
day previous, feeling very weak, he prayed 
earnestly that God would give him strength 
tor attend upon the exercises of the sanctu- 
ary, and to perform this service. 

On Sabbath morning he asked his mother 
to pray for him. They had an affecting 
season together, and he walked to church, 
leaning, as it were, on the arm of his blessed 
Saviour. After the usual exercise, he arose, 
and in a very impressive manner adminis- 
tered the rite of baptism. He then in a 
trembling and subdued voice offered prayer. 
He prayed for the dear child; prayed for 
the parents, that they might be enabled to 
train him up for the service of God and 
the enjoyments of heaven ; prayed for his 
beloved church. Here his voice faltered; 
his strength failed him, and he sunk back 
into his chair. His prayer remained before 
his audience like a beautiful, yet broken 
column ; a column which, though abruptly 
26 



302 MEMOIR. 

sundered, yet pointed towards heaven ! On 
returning home, he threw himself upon the 
sofa and burst into tears. He felt that 
his last public service had been performed. 
The "silver cord" was now loosened; the 
" golden bowl " was broken. He remarked 
to his parents that he had looked upon his 
beloved flock for the last time, and had bade 
them farewell. In alluding to his prayer 
he said, " O, those dear young men, I did 
long to make one more effort to do them 
good. I did want to offer one more public 
petition in their behalf." 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 

Mr. Emerson was now obliged to spend 
much of his time at home, and several of 
the friends who were with him have kindly 
furnished me with the following facts and 
incidents connected with the closing scenes 
of his life. 

" About three weeks before he took his 
chamber, at his request a few friends spent 
the evening alone with him in his study. 
He spoke freely of his views and feelings, 
in regard to his sickness. Said, he trusted 
he was resigned to the will of God, though 
he had a strong desire to live, that he might 
preach the gospel. ' I have been to God 
again and again, with the petition that if 
this desire was wrong, he would take it 
away.' He asked if a strong desire to live 
was inconsistent with true submission. 



304 MEMOIR. 

" During the conversation he remarked, 
1 When I awake in the night, I ask myself, 
Am I ready to go now, if God should call ? 
I think I am. I feel that I have cast 
myself upon Christ, and trust in him alone 
for salvation ; and what more can a poor 
sinner do ? I wish to be stripped of every 
thing else, and be wrapped all around with 
the robe of Christ's righteousness. Could 
I be permitted to preach again, I would 
preach Christ more, pray Christ more, sing 
Christ more. O, how I long to take my 
sermons, and breathe into them the spirit 
and feelings I now have.' 

" At another time he said, ' I have been 
reviewing my past life to-day, and I feel that 
I am a great sinner ; but I tell you what I 
am going to do. I am going to put all 
my sins in one bundle, and carry them to 
Jesus.' The next morning, on going into 
his room, he exclaimed, ' I have done it ; I 
have carried all my sins to Christ ; he has 
forgiven, and accepted me.' 

" On another occasion he remarked, 4 1 
have been reviewing God's dealings with 
me, as it regards my illness ; how wise and 



(LOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 305 

gently he has dealt with me. Had I known, 
at the commencement of my illness, what 
was to be the result, I could not have borne 
it. When it became evident that I must 
cease my active labors, I felt at first as if it 
could not be; I must preach. But God 
said, stop. Then I felt I can visit my people, 
I can attend the meetings for conference and 
prayer. But God soon said to me, You 
must give up these. Still, I could meet with 
my people on the Sabbath, and occasionally 
read a hymn or offer prayer. But God has 
now said to me, You must give up this also ; 
and he has enabled me to say, Not my will, 
but thine be done. I trust I am now willing 
to live or die, just as God pleases. He has 
been with me thus far, and I know he will 
be with me to the end ; he will give me 
grace for the dying hour ; I can trust him, 
for he is faithful.' 

" March 8th. Spent the afternoon with 
Mr. Emerson. Soon after entering his room, 
he said, with much emotion, ' O how many 
are my mercies ! I am pressed down and 
overwhelmed with them ; what can I do to 
evince my gratitude % What a mercy that I 
26* 



306 MRMOIK. 

am here ! What should I do, were I from 
home, and among strangers % Can Ave doubt 
that the hand of God is in our church enter- 
prise ? I do not think it was ambition that 
induced me to settle here. I was willing to 
preach to a small number ; and it was with 
the desire and hope that I might be useful, 
that I settled here.' The remark being 
made, that God had in a wonderful manner 
blest his efforts, and that he had been per- 
mitted, during his short ministry, to see 
more of the fruits of his labors than some 
ministers have, during a long life ; and that 
it must be gratifying to know there are those 
who bless God that he has been instru- 
mental in plucking them as brands from the 
burning, — he replied, ' I bless God if he 
has made me in any degree useful. I needed 
this affliction, to show me that God did not 
need me as an instrument.' 

" On another occasion he said, ' It seems 
evident now what the will of God is. I 
have given up my church and people. Satan 
sometimes tells me my submission is forced ; 
but I do not believe it. I gave them up just 
as soon as I felt it was God's will that I 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. '307 

should do so.' At another time he remark- 
ed, ' I have taken this dear church, and 
carried it and placed it in the hands of the 
great Head of the Church, and I know he 
will take care of it.' 

" On another occasion, the conversation 
turned upon the joys of heaven. He re- 
marked, ' How strange that those who be- 
lieve heaven such a delightful place, should 
be so reluctant to enter there ! It is but little 
indeed that we can know of heaven. The 
Bible, in speaking of its joys, uses figures 
drawn from earthly things, golden streets, 
pearly gates, &c. ; but it is enough for me 
that we shall glorify God ; that to me is the 
bliss of heaven.' He remarked, ' In my anti- 
cipations of heaven, it has always been a 
delightful thought, that those friends in 
whose society I have spent so many happy 
hours here, will be with me there.' 

" At another time ; ' I love to think of 
meeting friends in heaven, but I do not 
want them put first — the Saviour, the 
Saviour first. O, it is a delightful thought, 
that perhaps I may be employed as a minis- 
tering spirit to those I loved. Who knows ? 



308 MEMOIR. 

Who knows ] I am going to heaven a little 
in advance, and there I shall meet, and with 
open arms welcome my friends, and the 
members of my church, as they, one after 
another, are admitted to the mansions of the 
blest. God grant that not one of this little 
band shall be missing.' At another time, as 
one wiped his brow, he exclaimed, ' God, 
God himself shall wipe away all tears from 
their eyes.' 

" On one occasion, reference being made 
to his past life, and to the incidents con- 
nected w r ith his early years, so unlike child- 
hood in general, he instantly checked any 
farther remark of the kind by saying, — ' I 
place no reliance on any thing of this kind ; 
I have not a shadow of hope on that ac- 
count; my only hope is in the atoning 
sacrifice and righteousness of Christ.' A 
remark, (made by one who called to inquire 
after him,) that they almost envied those 
who had the privilege of watching around 
his bed, being repeated in his hearing, he 
said, with much emotion, ' O, I am sorry 
any one should make a remark like that ; I 
am nothing but a poor sinner.' 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 309 

" The next day lie remarked, — ' The 
doctrines that I have loved, and the gospel 
I have preached, are now my only support- 
The last sermon I wrote was from the text, 
" Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou 
shalt be saved." And I find that this is all 
that I can do. Simple faith in Christ is all 
that can sustain in an hour like this. I cast 
myself entirely on Christ. O, how many 
times I have done this, this w T inter. I feel 
that I am a great sinner ; but the blood of 
Christ can wipe away all sin. These two 
passages have afforded me great consolation : 
" Laid in Zion for a foundation," and " Who- 
soever cometh unto me, I will in no wise 
cast out." ' 

" At another time, after some remarks 
upon the foundation of his hopes, he asked, 
with great emphasis, ' If I have come to 
Christ, and cast myself upon him, what 
then 1 It was replied, Why, he has received 
you; for he has declared, " Him that cometh 
unto me, I will in no wise cast out." Well, 
and what then ? He has promised, w r hen 
he has begun a good work, he will carry 
it on to perfection. And what then ? He 



310 MEMOIR. 

will be with you in life, go with you even 
through the valley of the shadow of death, 
and land you safe on Canaan's side.' With 
increasing earnestness and energy he again 
repeated the question. And what then 1 It 
was replied, ' I can go no farther ; for inspi- 
ration has declared, " Eye hath not seen, 
nor ear heard, neither have entered into the 
heart of man, the things which God hath 
prepared for them that love him." ' On his 
replying in the negative to the question, 
Do you suffer much pain, it was remark- 
ed, Your heavenly Father deals very gently 
with you, he immediately replied, ' Yes, had 
I known all this last summer, I could not 
have endured it. But God has very gently 
and kindly broken to me my situation.' " 

On Sabbath morning, March 9th, he had 
two ill turns, and was thought to be dying. 
He conversed, however, about death with 
great composure ; said, if it was God's will, 
that he was ready to go now. " I feel that I 
have given myself to Christ, and that he has 
accepted me, and it makes but little difference 
which of us goes first. The separation will 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 311 

be short. We shall soon meet to part no 
more." 

" My people would not have invited me 
to become their minister, if they had sup- 
posed that in little more than a year I 
should receive another call, and one that I 
must accept But God will provide for them 
a shepherd." 

During the day, he conversed much on 
the subject of religion, and frequently offered 
prayer. He prayed for himself, that he 
might be prepared for the scenes that were 
before him ; for his parents, that God would 
support them under their afflictions, and 
enable them to submit to his will ; for 
all his dear relatives and friends ; for the 
church of Christ, and for those who were 
living without hope and without God in the 
world. 

He saw that day three impenitent young 
men, members of his society, and conversed 
with them with great earnestness and faith- 
fulness. He entreated them to attend now 
to the interests of their souls' salvation. 
"What should I now do," said he, "without 
an interest in Christ ? I beseech you to be 



312 MEMOIR. 

prepared for sucli an hour as this ; for it 
surely will come." 

Through Monday and Tuesday he con- 
tinued about in the same state, seeing a 
large number of people, and conversing with 
them upon the interests of eternity. He 
was exceedingly appropriate in adapting his 
remarks to the different cases that came be- 
fore him. 

On Tuesday evening he was very much 
exhausted from seeing so many persons, and 
exerting himself to do them good. There 
were fears that he would not revive ; but after 
a few hours he appeared more comfortable, 
although he was much weaker than before. 
During the night he rested but little, and 
conversed on heavenly things. 

The next day he asked for one of his 
sermons that he had recently preached. On 
looking at it he remarked, " 1 will rest at 
this hour upon what is therein written. 
I have endeavored to preach the simple 
truths of the gospel, and upon these I now 
rely for hope and comfort." 

The conversation turned upon the cove- 
nant of redemption, and he discoursed upon 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 



813 



it with much animation and interest. lie 
remarked that he desired to hold Christ 
forth, and to put himself in the back-ground 
— that Christ was all in all, and himself but 
a worm of the dust. 

Frequently, in the course of his sickness, 
he would exclaim, " I long to glorify God." 
At times he would cry out in an impassioned 
manner, and with his soul thrilled and glow- 
ing with unspeakable rapture, " O, to glo- 
rify God ! O, to glorify God ! " 

One day his mother said to him, that it 
must afford him great consolation to have 
been the instrument of establishing the 
Whitefield society, and to think that his 
name would be handed down to posterity as 
its first Pastor. 

" My name" said he, raising himself in 
his bed; and with a countenance beaming 
with animation, 

" My name is printed on his breast, 
His book of life contains my name ; 
I'd rather have it there impressed, 
Than in the bright records of fame. 

When the last fire barns all things here, 
Those letters shall securely stand ; 
And in the Lamb's fair book appear, 
Writ by th' eternal Father's hand.' " 

27 



314 



MEMOIR. 



At another time when he was speaking of 
death, he was asked if he had any fears. 
He replied, " Xo, not exactly fears, but 

1 The pains, the groans, the dying strife, 
Fright our approaching souls away.' " 

Then, after a moment's pause, he added> — 

" While he affords his aid, 
I'll never yield to fear ; 
Tho" I walk through death's dark shade, 
My shepherd's with me there.*' 

These lines were very precious to him, 
and he often repeated them. Sometimes he 
seemed to be longing to go, and would say, 
" I hope I shall not be impatient ; but be 
willing to wait. God's time is the best 
time. 

' Oh, if my Lord would come and meet. 
My soul would stretch her wings in haste ; 
Fly fearless through death's iron gate, 
Xor feel the terrors as she pass'd.' " 

He had some darkness and temptations, 
and was sometimes afraid that his submis- 
sion was forced. He would say, " I kept up 
as long as I could — Was that wrong ? Yet 
I desire to be swallowed up in the divine 
will. I roll mvself on God — I leave all 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 315 

with him — I am a poor lost sinner, and 
God has this last winter made me feel it. 
O, what should I do without a Saviour? 
This is an honest hour — I have tried to do 
something for Christ; I love my church 
and people ; but God has made me willing 
to give them up." 

About a week before his death, he had a 
severe conflict with the Adversary, and the 
Saviour hid his face from him. It was in 
the night. He had been lying still for some 
time with his eyes closed, when he turned 
his face towards his watcher and said, " I 
am in great trouble; I fear I have not 
been sincere ; I have not lived to the glory 
God." Thinking he had been dreaming, 
and w^as not quite aw r ake, he was requested 
to look around the room, and w 7 as asked, " Do 
you know where you are ?" After a moment's 
pause, he said, with great emphasis, " O, I 
am out of hell ! What a great sinner I 
am ! " The bed shook with his great agi- 
tation. It was said to him, " Jesus died to 
save sinners, and his blood cleanseth from all 
sin. Turn the eye of your faith to Christ." 
His favorite passage was repeated, — " Him 



316 



MEMOIR. 



that comcth unto me, I will in no wise cast 
out." He remarked, " I fear that I have 
not been sincere in my preaching, nor in my 
prayers. I have preached myself, and not 
Christ, and now I am going to die. What 
shall I do ] O, what shall I do ?" Many 
promises from the w T ord of God were re- 
peated to him, but he could not seem to 
take hold of them. He w r as told that this 
was a temptation from Satan ; that God was 
permiting it for the trial of his faith ; per- 
haps, to see if he could trust his Saviour in 
the dark. But he seemed to refuse all* con- 
solation. He suddenly broke out in prayer ; 
and such confessions of sin, such loathing 
of self, and prostration of soul before God, 
and such a resting of all on the Lord Jesus 
Christ, w T as never before witnessed. He was 
reminded of his early impressions, when he 
suffered ridicule for his religion. He re- 
plied, " I think I was sincere then, but I 
have not lived for the glory of God." His 
soul refused to be comforted. 

It was said to him, " One thing you can 
do." With great earnestness he asked, 
" What is it ? " " Why, you can let all that 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 317 

is past go, and begin now for the first time." 
This seemed to give him new light. He 
was reminded of the mercy of the Saviour 
to the thief on the cross. " I am going to 
begin anew," he said, " yes, I will leave all, 
and throw myself on Christ." 

He tried to pray, but he was so exhausted 
that he could say but a few words. With a 
most imploring look, he said, " Do pray ! " It 
was a solemn moment. He and his friends 
tried to make a new consecration of them- 
selves to God. He seemed a little more 
calm, and said, " What would my people 
think if they were here ? I have been urg- 
ing them to trust in Christ, and now their 
minister cannot trust him." Bunyan's Pil- 
grim was referred to, when he got into 
Doubting-castle, and laid there for some 
time, but the key of promise opened every 
door, even the iron gate. He replied, " O, 
how good that is ! " Many promises were 
repeated, and he seemed to be meditating 
upon them. His attendant gave him some- 
thing to take, and tried to persuade him 
to go to sleep, and get a little rest. He laid 
still some time, and then looked up, and 
27* 



318 MEMOIR. 

with a placid countenance said, " I can trust 
him now, I think that he has received me, I 
roll myself upon him." The remainder of 
the night he was calm and quiet. The 
Saviour had lifted the light of his counte- 
nance upon him, and he was filled with peace 
and joy. He repeated the words, — 

" In spite of all my foes 
Thou dost my table spread ; 
My cup with blessings overflows, 
And joy exalts my head." 

His friend retired to rest about four 
o'clock in the morning. After resting a 
few hours, she went into his chamber. He 
turned his eyes towards the door, and as 
soon as he saw her, he said, with a sweet 
smile, " Peace, peace, sweet peace ! " "I 
think," says she, " I never saw his counte- 
nance, through his sickness, beam with so 
much glory as on that morning. I could 
think of nothing but his face, like unto the 
face of an angel. He appeared to be swal- 
lowed up in God ; heavenly things filled his 
soul. He said that he felt the glow of 
heaven through his whole system. It needs 
more than a human tongue to describe his 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 319 

appearance. In the course of the day he al- 
luded to the temptation of the night before, 
and said, ' I am glad mother was not here. 
Say nothing about it to her, because it will 
distress her.' " 

He conversed on the doctrine of the Trin- 
ity, and spoke much of God's covenant ; 
wished that those around would give him 
their views of the covenant of grace; and 
then he expressed his own thoughts upon it. 
He spoke of the wonderful love of God in 
the covenant of redemption, and desired to 
examine anew these great subjects. 

The next day he remarked that he should 
like to have a few friends cluster around his 
bed, and talk about heaven. Mr. and Mrs. 
Morse, who were below stairs, were called 
up. After they came in, he said, " Here is 
dear father, and mother, and cousin, and 
friends, looking so happy. I thought I 
should like to talk about heaven. O, what 
pure worship there is in the upper sanc- 
tuary. There they serve God without sin." 
He conversed as long as he had strength ; 
then the hymn was read, — 

" Thine earthly Sabbaths, Lord, we love." 



320 MEMOIR. 

He entered into it fully, and seemed to have 
caught the spirit of the heavenly world. 

One lady, who watched with him one 
night, said, that she would not have missed 
of the privilege for twenty dollars, or almost 
any sum. His conversation and prayers 
were a rich treat to her soul, and she felt 
greatly strengthened, elevated, and blest by 
the interview. 

One afternoon a friend was sitting near 
him, and heard him say, very faintly, " I 
want to go home ; " she replied, " You are 
at home now." He then said, " I am sick." 
" Yes," she replied, " you are sick here in 
your own room, among your own friends." 
He looked up, and in the words of Scripture 
said, " And the inhabitant shall not say, I 
am sick." 

On Saturday, March 15th, he was attacked 
with severe spasms. On recovering, as soon 
as the power of utterance was restored, he 
said, with great emphasis, " On the Rock, 
on the Rock ; peace, peace like a river." 
On addressing his mother with the question, 
Are you supported ? and receiving an affirm- 
ative reply, he said, " Christ is my support ; " 
repeating, with energy, 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 321 

" The soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose, 
He will not, In 1 cannot desert to his foes ; 
Thai soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, 
Ue , ll never, no never, no never forsake." 

Adding, 

" He's loved me, he's saved me, 
He's carried me most through." 

After a few moments, lie repeated the lines, — 

" Jesus, to thy dear faithful hand 
My naked soul I trust, 
And my flesh waits for the command 
To drop into the dust." 

After resting a few moments, he commenced 
the hymn, — 

" Why should we start and fear to die? " 

Repeating the whole with a distinctness and 
emphasis never surpassed. At the close of 
the verse, 

" Jesus can make a dying bed 

Feel soft as downy pillows are," &c. 

he raised his eyes to heaven, and with an ex- 
pression almost heavenly, added, " Yes, yes, 
yes." The remark being made by one who 
loved him, with almost parental affection, 
" Dear Pastor, our hearts bleed, but not for 



322 MEMOIR. 

you, — you are a happy man ; " he replied, 
M It is God who has done it ; it is God, it is 
God who has placed me here." 

Sabbath morning, March 16th. After lay- 
ing for some time, apparently too feeble to 
converse, he suddenly engaged in earnest 
supplication. He first alluded to its being 
the Sabbath ; then prayed most fervently 
for those assembled for public worship ; for 
those who proclaimed the messages of salva- 
tion ; then for the church, that they might 
be quickened in duty ; for the impenitent, 
that God would make bare his arm for their 
salvation ; and finally for himself, that the 
Saviour would still be near ; that under- 
neath him might lie the everlasting arms ; 
and that, if it was God's will, he might have 
a quiet and easy dismissal. At the close of 
these petitions, (which were offered in a 
whisper.) he seemed suddenly to be indued 
with new strength. He began to converse, 
and continued with little intermission for 
more than two hours. He first remarked, 
" It is the Sabbath. What a blessed Sab- 
bath they spend in the sanctuary above, 
where they worship without sin/' It was 



I LOSING Si BNKS 01 BIfl LIKE. 






. u Would you like to join them?" 
He replied. •• ( ) v. 9, I long to worship God 
without sin ; I would glorify God. I do 
believe I have desired hi aven. that I might 
glorify God." Again, he remarked. ; * God 
- me strength to speak a few words more 
to some of my people. Let us cluster around 
here, and spend the day in praise. I want 
to praise him. I will praise him. •• Ble— 
Lord. O my soul." On his mother's coming 
into the room, he requested her to take a 
seat near him; and aftectionatelv taking her 
hand and kissing it. said. " Precious, pre- 
cious mother : have we not had sweet com- 
munion together ? O. I love to think of 
those hours of prayer. I am glad we have 
had them." (referring to the season of devo- 
tion they had from his childhood, toget 
on Sabbath noon.) He then, with a power 
and pathos, which language in vain attempts 
to portray, went over some incidents con- 
nected with his Christian experience. "I 
am a child of the covenant : I was dedic 
to God in baptism : at ten years of age I 
trust I gave my heart to the Lord ; and at 
twelve openly professed my faith in him. 



324 



IMEMOIR. 



If ever I enjoyed communion with God, it 
was during these two first years- of my 
Christian life. I well remember that, dur- 
ing my school hours, I used to look forward 
with great delight, to those seasons of devo- 
tion, which I always observed three times a 
day. Ever since then I have endeavored, 
though in a poor and feeble way, to serve 
the Lord. When I wandered, I seemed to 
see the Father and Son in consultation, and 
heard them say : ' This our child has wan- 
dered, we must bring him back, if it is by 
chastisement, but the stripes shall be few, 
we w^ill lay the rod very gently upon him ; ' 
and oh, how gently it was. I did hope God 
would spare me, to labor longer in his vine- 
yard, that I might glorify him, in being the 
instrument *of saving souls. But he has 
ordered it otherwise, and his w 7 ill be done. 
I trust I shall glorify him in heaven. 
There has been a great deal of speculation 
about heaven and its joys, but I think we 
can know but little about it ; it is enough 
for me that I shall glorify God there. ,, 
Shortly after he expressed a wish to converse 
farther with two young men, (companions 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. A'l~) 

of his childhood,) who had called on the 
evening previous. One of them had come 
from a distance, that he might see his friend 
once more. He took them both affection- 
ately by the hand, expressed the deep inter- 
est he felt in their welfare, and urged them, 
by the love they bore him, and by the most 
weighty considerations, drawn from the so- 
lemnities of a dying hour, to attend imme- 
diately to the concerns of their souls. On 
the remark being made by one of these 
young friends, " That he had come from 
Providence, with the hope that this scene 
might be blest to him ; " he replied, " I am 
glad to hear you say that. I wish you could 
say, you had resolved to begin now to serve 
God." He expressed many thanks for their 
tokens of affection ; said he had ever loved 
them, and longed for their salvation. " But," 
said he, " I have not been as faithful person- 
ally with you as I should have been. For- 
give me for this." It was said, in reply, 
" You have nothing to reproach yourself 
for, on that account. Had we listened to 
your counsel, we should have been happier 
men than we now are." It was remarked 
28 



326 



MEMOIR. 



by another young friend, who was present 
during this interview, and to whom he ad- 
dressed a similar remark, — " Your life has 
been a constant reproof; it has always con- 
demned us." During the day he conversed 
with several other young men belonging to 
his congregation, some of whom had for- 
merly been inquirers, and all of whom were 
particularly and solemnly addressed, as the 
case of each one seemed to demand. 

March 17, afternoon. To one who had taken 
a seat near his bedside, he looked up with one 
of his sweetest smiles, and said, " Here are 
father, mother, cousin, and all my dear 
friends." His father replied, " Here are your 
best friends." He answered, " Yes, and I 
love you all ; but God calls, and I wait his 
bidding to go. And where he is, there shall 
I be also." After laying silent for a few 
moments, he said in a kind of soliloquizing 
manner, " God supporting, Christ sustain- 
ing, heaven expecting ; these are high joys, 
but they are not heaven — they are not 
heaven. I shall be satisfied w T hen I awake 
in thy likeness. 



CLOSING SCENES OF MIS LIFE. 327 

4 () glorious hour, blest abode ! 
I shall be near and like my God,' " &c. 

After a few moments he exclaimed, "Bil- 
lions upon billions, billions upon billions, 
and heaven still ! " His mother replied, in 
those beautiful lines of Watts, ■ — 

" There we shall see his face, 
And never, never sin ; 
There, from the rivers of his grace, 
Drink endless pleasures in." 

As soon as she closed, he replied, — 

11 Yes, and before we rise 
To that immortal state," &c. 

It was said to him, " You have found God 
faithful." "O, yes," he quickly answered, 
" faithful to his promises." At another time 
he remarked, " God has fulfilled his promises 
to the very letter." During the afternoon, 
he remarked to his mother, " How wonder- 
ful it is, that you are thus supported, and 
can sit by the bed of your dying son, and 
be so calm." A little while after, he said, 
" I hope you will never distrust God again. 
Will you not from henceforth trust him] 
O, I want to praise him ; had I voice and 
strength, I would sound his praise from 
shore to shore." 



328 



■MEMOIR. 



ht Tuesday, March 1 8th. He repeated with 
with great emphasis, the whole of the hymn 
beginning, — 

<: Lord, at thy temple we appear," &c. 

In repeating the Avoids, 

11 Jesus, the vision of thy face," 

and the verse following, his countenance 
assumed an expression almost unearthly. 
It seemed indeed, as if his face shone 
with a glory reflected from the heavenly 
world, with which he held such blissful 
communion. Just after repeating the hymn 
mentioned above, he looked upon each of 
those who were present, and with a beau- 
tiful smile, said, " It is pleasant to be with 
dear friends, but it is better to be with 
Jesus. I shall soon be with Jesus. "Where 
Jesus leads I shall go; the Saviour of the 
w 7 orld is my Saviour." Then he repeated 
the hymn, 

" How sweet the name of Jesus sounds 
To a believers' ear," &c. 

A day or two afterwards, after a season 
of severe suffering, he said, " Pray for me, 
that I may not be impatient, but be willing 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 329 

to wait the Lord's time." On asking the 
hour, and being told, he remarked, " How 
slowly the hours move ! Why are his chariot 
wheels so long in coming 1 " 

Sabbath, March 23d. He said but little 
during the day. He expressed to his at- 
tending physician his unshaken reliance 
upon Christ ; repeated those lines, — 

" Blest Jesus, every smile of thine 
Shall sweet endearment bring." 

Towards night it was evident he was en- 
tering the dark valley, and, for a short 
season, the light of his Father's countenance 
was withdrawn. His agony, during these 
few moments, seemed to bear some resem- 
blance to his who exclaimed, " My God ! 
my God ! why hast thou forsaken me X " He 
threw his arms upward, raised his eyes heav- 
enward and with an indescribable earnest- 
ness exclaimed, " Saviour, I will come to 
thee ; I have come to thee ; I do now come 
to thee." Turning to those around, he ex- 
claimed " Repeat to me some of the prom- 
ises.'' Several were repeated, among which 
were the following : " Whosoever cometh 
unto me, I will in no wise cast out ; " 
28* 



330 MF.MOIR. 

u In a little wrath I hid my face from thee 
for a moment ; but with everlasting kind- 
ness will I have mercy on thee, saith the 
Lord thy Redeemer." " Does he say that % 
does he say that ? " he asked with deep 
emotion. " Then I will trust him." In- 
stantly the darkness was dispelled, the Sun 
of Righteousness arose upon his soul, never 
more to set, and quiet as an infant he reposed 
on the bosom of his Redeemer. On his 
mother's coming in, he remarked, " The 
Saviour hid his face from me for a moment, 
but it is all over now ; he has come. I am, 
as it were, embosomed in God; he is within, 
above, below, and around me." 

Shortly after he expressed a wish to see 
the deacons and some of the brethren of the 
church. Several w r ere sent for. He then 
asked to have the hymn read, commencing, 

" I would not live alway, 
I ask not to stay." 

It was read and sung in his chamber, and 
appeared to soothe and comfort him. In a 
moment afterwards his soul was filled with 
joy. Heavenly pleasures seemed to roll over 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 331 

him, and pervade his whole system. " Oh ! " 
he exclaimed, " Peace, peace, sweet peace, 
the peace of God that passeth all under- 
standing. It flows like a river, calm, bright, 
reflecting the temples and palaces of the 
celestial city." One who had lately joined 
the church, he took by the hand and said to 
him, " Do be a faithful, praying Christian ; 
consecrate your all to the blessed Saviour." 

To another who had long been a church 
member he said, " Sir, I trust that you will 
speak often of that religion which you pro- 
fess. O, set not your heart on earthly riches ; 
they are the merest bubbles. To glorify God 
is the great end of your being." He then 
remarked, " How gently I have been let 
down to the grave, giving up, gradually, one 
thing after another. I thought, at first, that 
they could not do without me at the Wed- 
nesday evening meeting ; but I find they 
can. They have good meetings now. It 
takes the presence of God to make a good 
meeting. Where he is with his smiles and 
love, there, there is life and peace. I often 
used to think when a boy, that I should like 
to die in a consumption, that I might have 



332 



MEMOIR. 



time to arrange every thing, and be prepared 
for the solemn event. I hope that I shall 
have my reason to the last. When I am 
found to be dying, call together the family 
and friends, that I may bid them an affection- 
ate farewell." The remark was made to him, 
"Perhaps you may recover even now." " Oh 
no," said he ; " and I don't know that I 
desire to get well." " But," replied a friend, 
"if God has a work for you to do here, 
should you not be willing to live % " " Yes, 
yes," he said ; " but then I should be so dis- 
appointed, as I have got so near to heaven 
now. I want to see my Heavenly Father, 
and the Saviour, and the bright angels ; and 
I shall be so delighted to welcome you all 
to heaven." For several hours he coughed 
and raised without cessation, and it was 
feared that he would strangle. Once, after 
a very severe attack, he uttered a groan, 
which was the only one that was heard 
during his sickness. When he revived so 
as to be able to speak, he cried to God for 
grace to enable him to bear with composure 
all that might be laid upon him. " Oh, 
send me relief," he exclaimed ; " neverthe- 
less, not my will, but thine be done." 



CLOSING SCF.NF.S OF HIS LIFK. 333 

Iii the afternoon Deacon Thurston called, 
and, after a little conversation, Mr. Emerson 
said to him, " I want to deliver to you the 
church books, and perhaps now is as good a 
time as any." On these being handed to 
him, Mr. Emerson remarked, " I think that 
you will find every thing correct. I have 
made all the entries myself, and have en- 
deavored to insert every thing in its proper 
place. His habits of order were indeed 
remarkable through life ; and they con- 
tinued with him to his dying hour. 

He now felt that his work on earth was 
done, and that he must wait for the sum- 
mons to depart. He repeated that beautiful 
stanza, — 

" So shall my minutes smoothly run, 
While here I wait my Father's will ; 
My rising and my setting sun 
Roll gently up and down the hill." 

Some flowers w r ere sent in to him. He 
took them in his hand, and, looking upon 
them said, " These are the last flowers that 
I shall see on earth, and they are sent to 
adorn my pathway to the tomb. Oh, that I 
may soon enter the celestial paradise, w r here 



334 



MEMOIR. 



flowers never fade, where all is freshness, 
and purity, and love. But I am so unworthy 
of the meanest place in heaven. Oh Lord, 
cleanse me from all guilt ; sanctify me, that 
I may be a flower to wave and blo6m forever 
amid the breezes of heaven." 

Some persons came into the room, after a 
prayer meeting, and asked him if he would 
like to hear about it. He replied, " Yes, I 
should. It does sinners good to hear about 
prayer." He was informed that some in- 
quirers had tarried for religious conversa- 
tion. " I am glad of it," said he ; " I wish 
I had strength to talk with them and lead 
them to Jesus." 

He desired to pray, when two friends stood 
by his side, and holding up his hands, he 
prayed in the most fervent and touching 
manner. His countenance w r as perfectly 
radiant with, heavenly glory ; no words can 
describe his appearance. Several persons 
who saw him, have assured me that no lan- 
guage could portray this and similar scenes. 
They seemed to be communing with a de- 
parted spirit, while with him. With clasped 
hands, and uplifted eyes, and a most heavenly 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 335 

countenance, he pleaded with God ; plead- 
ed as one who was directly before the 
throne, and in the presence of the Divine 

Majesty. 

He conversed about his burial with perfect 
composure. It was his request that his late 
beloved pastor, the Rev. J. F. Stearns, D. D., 
should preach his funeral sermon, and that 
the writer should offer the prayer. Fearing 
that he might die on Saturday evening, he 
particularly requested that no work that 
could possibly be avoided, should be done on 
the following Sabbath. He wished that the 
family might spend the day in prayer and 
religious worship. 

On being asked where he wished to be 
buried, he replied, " Oh, my dear people 
will find a resting-place for me ; I should 
like to lie where my mother can rest by my 
side." He then repeated the hymn, com- 
mencing, — 

" Jesus, full of all compassion." 

When he reached the last stanza, he raised 
his voice, with great emphasis, and said, — 

" Sav'd, — the deed shall spread new glory 
Through the shining realms above ; 



336 



MEMOIR. 



Angels sing the pleasing story, 
All enraptur'd with thy love." 

He now rallied all his energies, and ex- 
erted his remaining strength to give those 
around his last dying admonition and coun- 
5 el. As some were about to leave, he said, 
" Do not go yet, I have a little more to say." 
It was remarked, " You are so weak, perhaps 
you had better not attempt to speak any 
more." He replied, " I must ; there will 
never be such an opportunity again. I 
feared the cloud which came over my mind 
a short time since, might cause your faith to 
waver. But it was only for a moment. I 
cast myself on Christ ; he has received me. 
Though all my church should forsake him, I 
would still cleave to him. Dear brethren, 
do not let your faith be shaken; trust in 
the Lord ; he will be with you." 

The last prayer that he offered, was a 
fervent petition for the members of his be- 
loved flock. He pleaded that God would 
abundantly bless them ; would watch over 
them ; would permit him to meet them all in 
that bright world, where there will be no 
more parting — no more pain, sorrow, or 
death. 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 337 

Soon after, he was asked if he would not 
try to sleep, as he must feel fatigued. He 
signified his assent, folded his arms upon his 
breast, and closed his eyes forever on earthly 
scenes. His breath grew shorter and shorter, 
until ten minutes before one o'clock, when 
without a struggle, he sweetly breathed out 
his soul, which was borne by angels to man- 
sions in the skies. 

Pie had often, during his sickness, prayed 
that he might lean his head on Jesus' 
breast, 

" And breathe his life out sweetly there." 

His Heavenly Father heard and answered 
his prayer. 

His funeral services w r ere performed in the 
Federal Street Church, in Newburyport, on 
Thursday, March 27th, 1851. The morning 
opened bright and beautiful, and prepara- 
tions were made for the performance of the 
last solemn rite to the remains of our young 
brother. Between one and two o'clock, the 
people from every part of the town were 
seen flocking to the church. At the hour 
appointed for the services, two o'clock, the 
29 



338 MEMOIR. 

church was so densely filled that it was im- 
possible to gain access to the pulpit, except 
through the entrance in the rear. When I 
reached the pulpit, and looked over the vast 
multitude of mourners, I was overcome by 
the impressive scene before me. The walls 
of the church, the organ and galleries, were 
all hung in deep mourning. Every spot 
where one could stand, was occupied, and 
very many persons were outside, unable to 
<ret within the doors. Amon^ the audience 
were a very large number of clergymen, 
many of whom had come in from the neigh- 
boring towns. In the broad aisle, in front* of 
the pulpit, rested the corpse, robed in white, 
with a most beautiful bouquet of white 
flowers upon the breast, and another upon 
the coffin. The countenance of the departed 
was placid and sweet, even in death. Here 
he quietly rested in the venerable and time- 
hallowed church, the walls of which had 
echoed the voice of a Whitefield, a Murray, 
a Dana, a Williams, and a host of other 
eminent preachers of righteousness ; — a 
church in which he had been solemnly 
dedicated to God by baptism — in which he 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 339 

had made a public profession of his faith in 
Christ — in which he had been ordained for 
the holy work of the ministry. Upon the 
services of a sanctuary, which had, in times 
past, so often delighted and nourished his 
soul, he is now an unconscious attendant. 
The swell of the organ reaches not his ear ; 
the vast crowd around him he sees not, 
heeds not. He is worshipping in another 
temple, gazing upon other scenes, listening 
to other music. He has left the church 
militant, and joined the church triumphant. 
He has " come unto mount Sion, and unto 
the city of the living God, the heavenly 
Jerusalem, and to an innumerable company 
of angels, to the general assembly and 
church of the first-born, which are written 
in heaven, and to God the Judge of all." 

The exercises # of the occasion, through- 
out, were very solemn and impressive, 
"When allusion was made to the departed, 
the sympathies of the audience were at once 
manifested, and many eyes were suffused 



* For the order of exercises, and the hymns prepared for 
the occasion, see Appendix, D. 



340 



MEMOIR. 



with tears. At the close, an invitation was 
given for those who desired to look upon 
the corpse, to pass up the centre aisle, and 
retire from the house through the side aisles. 
For more than half an hour, there was a 
constant stream of people, who availed them- 
selves of the opportunity to look upon the 
remains, and drop the last tear of affection 
over the beloved pastor and friend. 

The procession that followed him to the 
grave, was the longest ever witnessed in 
the town. Besides his ow r n relatives and 
parishioners, many others joined to pay to 
him their last tribute of respect. 

At the cemetery, the scene was deeply 
affecting. The crowd gathered around the 
new-made grave, that was open to receive 
the young pastor. The trees were just 
putting on their spring attire, and the earth 
was clothing itself in its robe of green. A 
few flowers were starting up, emblematic of 
the immortal Spring, w T hich had already 
burst upon the ransomed soul of the de- 
parted. 

As soon as all in the procession had 
reached the grave, the following dirge was 



CLOSING SCENES OF HIS LIFE. 



341 



sung by the choir of the Whitcfield so- 
ciety : — 

" Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime, 

In full activity of zeal and power ; 

A Christian cannot die hefore his time ; 

The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour. 

" Go to the grave at noon, from labor cease ; 

Rest on thy sheaves, thy harvest task is done ! 
Come from the heat of battle, and in peace, 
Soldier, go home, with thee the fight is won ! 

" Go to the grave, for there thy Saviour lay 
In death's embraces, ere he rose on high ; 
And all the ransomed, by that narrow way, 
Pass to eternal life beyond the sky. 

" Go to the grave ; now take thy seat above ; 
Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord ; 
Where thou for faith and hope hast perfect love, 
And open vision for the written word." 

As the assembly retired to their homes, 
many breathed the silent prayer, " Let me 
die the death of the righteous, and let my 
last end be like his." 



29* 



CHAPTER VIII. 

SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED. 

Soon after the funeral took place, several 
pieces of poetry appeared in the public 
prints, from which we select a few : — - 

The following was written for the ob- 
sequies of Rev. J. E. Emerson, by a young 
lady belonging to the society, and a pupil in 
the Newburyport High School, but was 
omitted in consequence of the services being 
protracted to a late hour. 

Once more, gentle brother, we meet with thee here ; 
Once more we surround one, we've learned to revere, 
Yet gushing tears o'er thee in anguish we shed, 
All sad are our spirits, — thy pure soul hath fled. 

In deep adoration thou'st bowed at the shrine 
Of truth, high and holy, of wisdom divine ; 
Till the spirits celestial, from the pure holy land, 
Came to hover around thee, a bright white-winged band. 

Not long could 'st thou linger, not long coulcTst thou stay, 
When the angels of heaven in shining array, 



SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED. 343 

In drop tones were singing- sweet music to thee, 
Of the world brightly glorious beyond the dark sea. 

Not wishing to leave us, yet yearning to go, 
Thou hast lingered awhile with the loved ones below ; 
While we were rejoicing in thy deep, fervent love, 
The angels were waiting to waft thee above. 

Thy young life is ended, — thy earthly race run ; 
The conflict is over, — the victory won. 
Now the seat near thy Saviour, the bright golden crown, 
The harp of the seraph, are all, all thine own. 

Farewell, gentle brother, 'till we meet thee again, 
In the land free from sorrow, from sin, and from pain ; 
Where the songs of the ransomed the deep anthems swell, 
Where the ear never heareth the word Farewell, 



SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED. 

Written on the Death of Rev. John E. Emerson, late Pastor oft.hr. 
Whitejield Congregational Society, in Newburyport. 

A sound 
Of weeping and of bitter woe is heard 
* From the lone hill of Zion ; for its walls 
Are desolate, its watch-tower deserted. 

The youthful sentinel 
Hath fallen ! fallen ere the work he lov'd 
So much was finish' d ; fallen ere he scarce 
Had buckled on his armor. Then weep ye, 
Children of Zion — for your harps unstrung 
Hang silent on the willows. Ye cannot 
Tune them now ; but may your mourning cry 
Be heard by Zion's King. 



344 MEMOIR. 

But oh ! that sound 
Of deeper grief, that plaintive moan, which comes 
From the sad home. It tells of sunder'd ties, 
Of bleeding hearts, of crush'd and wither'd hopes. 
Well may ye weep, fond ones. Your earthly stay 
Is broken — the arm is prostrate, upon which 
Long years to come, ye hoped to lean ; that hand 
Is motionless, which ye did think would seal 
In death those aged eyes, and lay your limbs 
To rest. And ye that office have performed 
For him, so soon — the young, the talented ; 
Ay more — the kind, the dutiful, the child 
Of your affections, and your hopes. 

Weep then, fond parents weep. — 
Weep for the lonely hearth-stone ; for the seat 
Now vacant, at the social board ; and weep ye, too, 
For Zion's loss. Your God will count those tears 
And measure all your grief. The Saviour wept. 
May we not weep? Oh yes — but murmur not. 

Yet methinks I hear 
A sound above the wail of broken hearts. 
It cometh from that world, where tears ne'er fall, 
Nor sighs escape ; where partings are unknown, 
List ye. It seems to say, " Be still and know 
There is a God." Now listen once, again ; 
A strain of music, sweet and rich and deep 
Breaks o'er the heav'nly heights. Hark ! 'tis the song 
Of triumph which the youthful pastor now 
Doth swell in those bright courts ; more sweet it is 
Than angel's music. 'Tis the victor's song. 
" Weep not for me,' 1 I seem to hear, " but join 
My song of praise." 



SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED. 345 

Is it 

Not meet, ye stricken ones, to sing? e'en though 
The harp-strings quiver ; for his clays though short 
Were spent for God ; his race was nobly run — 
His course was finish'd. Now the spotless robe, 
The crown, the conqueror's palm, and the harp, 
Fresh tuned to praise redeeming love, are his. 
They have been waiting for him. 

Ye mourn indeed 
Your early loved, your early lost ; but still, ■ 
Ye may rejoice for him, the early saved ; — 
Rejoice, that heaven hath gained the prize which ye 
Have lost, that toil, and pain, and weariness 
Are over now ; that Spring eternal blooms 
Beneath his step ; that fadeless youth now crowns 
The brow no longer pale ; that vigor which 
Ne'er tires, thrills his wrapt spirit in his blest 
Employ. 

Then weep no more. 
For ye shall go ere long to him. The lov'd, 
The idolized is but remov'd, that ye 
May set your hopes more firm in God. The time 
Is not remote ; short is the distance ; 
And smoothed by love, the path will soon be trod. 
And then at heaven's gate a spirit pure, 
Which ye have loved on earth, may be allowed 
To bid you welcome, and your weary feet 
To guide to the blest seats of Paradise, 
Fast by the throne of God. And you shall part 
No more. a. l. r. 



THE DESERTED CONFERENCE ROOM. 

Ye need not hang the candle by the desk, 

Ye may remove his chair and take away his book ; 



34G 



MEMOIR. 



He will not come to night, he did not hear the hell 
Which told the hour of prayer. I cannot speak the reason, 
Bat he does not seem to love as he did once, 
The conference room. 

We've waited long of late, and thought we heard at length 

His well known step. We were deceived, 

He did not come. 'Tis very sad to say, 

But he will never come again. 

Do ye remember how he'd sometimes sit 

Tn this now vacant corner, quite hid by its obscurity, 

Only ye might perceive his matchless eye 

Striving to read the feelings of your souls, 

That he might know if ye would hear the voice of Jesus. 

Ye do remember well. He's not there now, 

Ye may be gay and thoughtless, if ye will, 

His glance will not reprove you ; 

Or if you choose it, ye may slumber on your seats, 

And never fear the watchman's eye, — 

It weeps not o'er you now. 

There listen to that hymn of praise, 

But how it falters on the lip — 

How like a funeral dirge it sounds. 

Ah ! ye have lost your leader, and ye cannot sing ; 

But hearken, when ye struck that note, 

Did not ye hear an angel voice take up the lofty strain, 

" For thou, oh Lamb of God, art worthy] " 

'Twas his voice, 

Not rising as in former days from this low temple — 

Sing softly, or you will not riear it. 

Only the clearest, softest strain, waving its way 

From the celestial world, just strikes the listening ear, 

And now 'tis gone. 



SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED. 347 

Ye've doI forgotten what lie used to say, 

Or if ye have, methinks heM answer, 

"* Remember, Oh my people, for the day approaches 

When y must remember, 

Aeeept of mercy while ye may What shall it profit 

Though you gain the world and lose your souls] " 

And then he would conclude perhaps, 

kt A few years hence and where are w T e 1 

Our bodies mouldering in the tomb, 

Our very names forgotten by the living, 

Our spirits w 7 here are they 1 " 

Oh how it chills the heart to think 

That voice is no more heard within these w r alls. 

It is no fiction^ it is no deluding dream — 

Ah ! no, our friend is gone, the damp of death is o'er him, 

The morn is shining on his grave, he will not awake 

Until he wakes to immortality. 

'Tis sweet to pause and think 
In what a higher world than this his spirit shines, 
How very near he is to Jesus, for sure he must be near 
To him in heaven, who did so love his name on earth ; 
And now he's washed his mortal cares and sins away, 
And now he drinks the consolation of his Saviour's love. 
And now he tunes his voice to angel themes, 
And now he joins a band, the rapture of whose song 
An angel's mind can scarce imagine. 

How does he swell the chorus, " Thou wast slain/br us " — 
A song not new to him, he had been learning it in years gone 
by. 

But we are not in heaven, we are here, 

Where desolation reigns in every heart, 

And sorrow looks from every eye. 

Soon we must go away, and there is none to ask 



348 MEMOIR. 

A blessing for us. When we've dune praying 

We shall stand and wait. But none shall say, 

" Now Grace be with you." 

Yet surely we must not repine 

At what he does, who made us. He hath done well , 

So be it, Father, even so, since it hath seemed 

Most righteous in thy sight ; 

And if we ask of God a blessing for ourselves, 

If we repent that we have sinned against him, 

He will not frown upon us. He will hear our prayer. 

We'll go, then, trusting in his name, 

He oft has blessed us in this room, 

He'll bless us yet again. We'll go. e. l. c. 



Thy death was like thy life, blest one, 
Peace for thy pillow, hope thy guide ; 
In fearless trust thy heart reposed, 
For God, thy God, was at thy side. 

Like him, who, at the sacred feast, 
Leaned sweetly on his Master's breast, 
So did thy spirit seek repose, 
So find at last thy final rest. 

To Jordan's bank the Saviour bore ; 
Thine eyes beheld the swelling tide ; 
He spake — the " obedient waters " heard, 
And at his bidding they divide. 

The chilling waves roll back again, 
And leave us here 'mid doubts and strife, 
Yet, dimly, by the light of faith, 
We see the pearly gates of life. 

Our tearful eyes now catch a glimpse 
Of angel bands, who bid thee come, 



SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED, 349 

And leaning on the Saviour still, 
Thou interest thy eternal homo. 

11 What then ? " Alas ! the vision fails; 
Too gross our sense, too cold our love, 
Nor can the brightest fancy paint 
The joys that wait the saints above. 

Enough, that thou hast led the way, 
And taught our panting souls to soar ; 
Not loving thy blest church the less, 
But Jesus and his presence more. 

This afflictive stroke of Divine Providence, 
which deprived a church of a beloved and 
faithful pastor, and fond parents of a most 
affectionate son, was also felt by a large 
circle of relatives and friends abroad. Many 
letters were addressed to the sorrowing pa- 
rents, in which the warmest sympathy was 
expressed, and the most precious consola- 
tions tendered to the bereaved. As evidence 
of the strong feelings that were awakened 
by the death of our brother, and of the high 
esteem with which he was regarded, I will 
give some extracts from these letters. It is 
probably needless for me to say, that they 
were written without the slightest expecta- 
tion that they would meet the public eye. 
30 



350 



MEMOIR. 



The following was from a clergyman re- 
siding in a neighboring city : 

" Mr. and Mrs. Emerson, 

" My dear Friends; — I regretted that on 
the day of the funeral of your beloved son, I 
was not able to remain in town to express 
to you, personally, the deep sympathy that 
I have felt for you in your severe bereave- 
ment. By this affliction, I feel that I have 
lost a very dear friend, and a most amiable, 
talented, and devoted fellow-laborer in the 
Christian ministry. I speak the sincere con- 
victions of my heart, when I say, that I have 
never met with a brother, who sooner won 
the esteem and love of another than did your 
lamented son. His great kindness, his re- 
fined Christian courtesy, his elevated piety, 
made, from my earliest acquaintance with 
him, a deep impression on my heart. 

" In this mournful providence, you have, 
however, the greatest consolation that your 
dear son is now safe in his heavenly Fa- 
ther's house. He has left the church mili- 
tant to join the church triumphant, and is 
now rejoicing amid the splendors and glories 



[PATHY WITH JPHE BEREAVED. o5J 

of the celestial city. We ought not to wish 
him back to this vale of tears, for liis trials, 
pains, anxieties arc now over. From the 
summit of the glorious mount upon which 
he now stands, ' I hear a voice saying unto 
me, write, Blessed are the dead who die in 
the Lord.' 

" His funeral services were the most sol- 
emn and affecting that I ever attended. The 
deep and universal sympathy manifested, 
showed how strong was his hold upon the 
hearts of the people. He seemed to be rest- 
ing in the church as though upon a bed of 
affection and sympathy. 

" For his bereaved flock I feel also the 
warmest interest, and I trust that the Lord 
will soon supply you with a pastor worthy 
to follow in the footsteps of your dear de- 
parted son, and one who may reap the har- 
vest from the precious seed which has been 
sown. 

" With assurances of my highest esteem 
and cordial sympathy, 

" I remain very truly yours," 

A friend wrote from Conway, April 1, 
1851, as follows: — 



352 



MEMOIR. 



" Dear Mrs. E. — Though we have never 
met, I feel that I am not a stranger to you 
in heart, and cannot forbear, at this season 
of your deep sorrow, expressing to you my 
sincere sympathy and affectionate remem- 
brance. 

" My acquaintance with your son was 
slight, yet long enough to awaken that re- 
spect and esteem he ever inspired in the 
bosoms of those who knew him ; and very 
pleasant to me has been the remembrance 
of those hours he spent with us when my 
dear husband was living. Little did they 
then think that the intercourse of earth was 
just over, and they were about to enter upon 
the joyful communion of immortal spirits in 
a brighter world. Truly God's ways are 
not as our ways, nor His thoughts as our 
thoughts. He determines for us all our 
blessings, and heaven will reveal that they 
were the best and richest He could bestow. 
There are fountains of feeling in the heart 
that can only be opened by the touch of 
sorrow, and when the stream of affliction 
hath passed over and purified them, there 
goeth up from their depths the incense of 



SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED. 



353 



praise to the glory of God. Then, though 
ue may still weep, it will be at the feet 
of Jesus. 

" Gocl hath taken from your bosom a 
jewel for His own crown, and in the realms 
of glory it is emitting rays that will deepen 
and brighten forever. But you miss its lustre 
here ; your heart is darkened by its absence, 
and, for a while, perhaps, it will be almost 
impossible for faith to pierce the gathered 
gloom, and discern the light beyond. But 
is it not this, that enables us to glory in 
tribulation ? Is it not the privilege of the 
Christian to follow by faith its loved ones 
upw r ard, and behold their glory ? May 
we riot, when the ties of earth are broken, 
draw the bonds of the spirit more closely 
around us, and feel that they who are one 
in Christ, are one, though worlds divide 
them % 

" The brightest pathways soonest end in 
heaven. God has been leading him whom you 
love, upward for years, and you have rejoiced 
in his progress ; and now because the path 
of glory leads him out of your sight, will 
you w r eep ? It is upward still, though you 
30* 



354 



MEMOIR. 



cannot see it, and there is not one ray 
of glory lost, but gathered there to beam 
eternally ; even as the prison-song of Paul 
and Silas had its echo in heaven. 

" You would have had him stay here a little 
longer, to labor for Christ ! What if God 
should make his short but illustrious minis- 
try, more efficient than the labors of a long 
life ! What if his works should follow him, 
and he be only gone before, that he may re- 
ceive into the kingdom of glory those whom 
he here summoned to the kingdom of grace, 
and lead to the throne those whom he point- 
ed to the cross ! Are not the ministrations 
of glory greater than the ministrations of 
grace ? Will they not have double honor ? 
Do they not bring the spirit nearer to 
God? 

" Rarely do spirits on earth make the pro- 
gress that his did ; many, even in advanced 
life, never reached those heights of Zion, and 
shine with so much lustre in the firmament 
of God's kingdom here. O, did you not 
know when you saw so much glory gather 
about him, that he had almost reached the 
feet of God, and the presence of the angels % 



SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED. 3/>."> 

that the gates of heaven were opening be- 
fore him, and he could not stay? 

" Yet a little while, and we too shall 
' rise star by star into heaven.' Yet a little 
while, and we too shall join our voices to 
the glad song our beloved ones are pouring 
out before the throne of God and the Lamb ; 
and then the farewells of Time will be for- 
gotten in the greetings of Eternity. Let 
us not mourn as those who have no hope, 
but in the strength of faith go onward in 
our journey toward the eternal city, and 
the Father's house. And ere we are aware, 
the music of the harps of our beloved ones 
shall welcome our spirits to their immortal 
home, and the light affliction give place to 
' the eternal weight of glory.' 

" Remember me respectfully to your hus- 
band ; and may you both feel in your heavy 
affliction the ' strong consolations ' of the 
gospel, and the grace of God which is suffi- 
cient for you. Very respectfully yours, 

« H. S. E." 

The same delightful friend wrote again in 
June, as follows : — 



356 MEMOIR. 

" I am very glad it is contemplated to 
publish a memoir of cousin John. I am 
sure all his friends will prize it, and it can- 
not but be blessed to strangers. Such ex- 
amples of the power and riches of God's 
grace, of the sweet influence of early truth 
and piety, are too precious to be concealed. 

" I received the kind letter alluded to 
from your friend, and my heart was filled 
with rejoicing at the account of that tri- 
umphant death-bed, and the abundance of 
God's grace manifested towards you; truly 
God is rich unto all them that call upon 
him. How very beautiful was the verse oc- 
curring in the lines written by Miss Gould, 
and how true in their application to your 
son : — 

' His wings beneath their mortal veil, 

Prepared for early flight ; 
More shining through that fabric frail, 
And mounting soared from sight.' 

" Think of those spirit-wings stretching 
onward and upward in their last flight until 
they were folded at the feet of God, their 
eternal resting-place ! Think of the joy of 
the spirit, whose greatest delight here was 



SYMPATHY WITTI THE BEREAVED. • •'/ 

the knowledge of God, drinking now in un- 
measured draughts at the mighty fountain 
of eternity, without weariness, without pain, 
without disappointment. The Lamb that is 
in the midst of the throne shall lead them 
to living fountains of water, and God shall 
wipe all tears from their eyes. 

" O, how sweet to me are such lives as his 
- — such deaths as his — or, almost we might 
say, translations. For that which we call 
death seems all taken away, and there's 
nothing but glory there. O, if such a halo 
of light could encompass the spirit while it 
yet lay in its clay tabernacle, the fetters of 
earth still binding it, how it must have 
beamed w T ith unutterable glory, ; as shaking 
the water-drops from its pinions on the 
other side of Jordan,' it entered the bright 
home of many mansions and bowed before 
God. 

" I could write all day on a theme like 
this, — but night is drawing near, and I 
must mail my letter." 

The following is from a young man, who, 
though not a professor of religion, yet came 
from Providence to Newburyport, that he 



358 



MF.MOIK. 



might see Mr. Emerson before his departure 
for heaven : — 

" Providence, April 5th, 1851. 

" Mrs. Emerson, 
" Dear Madam, — Since receiving the mel- 
ancholy tidings of the death of my dear 
friend, I have been very desirous of address- 
ing you. I need not assure you how warm- 
ly the sympathy of his numerous friends is 
extended to yourself. Universally beloved 
and lamented by all, we cannot but remem- 
ber that he was most dear to you. But deep 
and powerful as your grief must be at this 
sad event, you have the sweetest source of 
consolation to a parent's heart. The ' last 
of earth' to him was indeed a perfect tri- 
umph of religious faith. 

' He sweetly told us how to live, 
And showed us how to die.' 

" Death to him was but 4 the perfecting of 
the soul, and its entrance into a world of 
perfection.' His career has been brief in- 
deed, but how full of instruction, admonish- 
ing us that ' Man is like to vanity ; his days 
are as a shadow that passeth away,' But a 



SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED. 359 

few years have passed since I first knew and 
loved him; — kind and gentle — shunning 
the wrong and pursuing the right, his ex- 
ample was not without its effect upon his 
young companions. I love to indulge in 
retrospection, and memory wanders back 
and lingers fondly around the happy hours 
of our boyhood's days ; and when I call to 
mind the. kiss and the kind ' good night,' 
brief indeed seems the interval between that 
time and my last farewell. Sweet as w T as 
our intercourse in boyhood's days, clearer 
still has been the interchange of friendship 
in later years. During the early part of his 
college life w r e saw but little of each other, 
but our friendship was never forgotten, and 
w r hen circumstances again brought us to- 
gether, I found in him, though no longer a 
boy, the same gentle disposition and consist- 
ent Christian character. Soon after the re- 
newal of our friendship in 1848, he says, in 
his first letter : ' I am of opinion that early 
friendships are the most pleasant and sacred, 
and I would much prefer the revival of a 
friendship with one I have known and loved 
in early days, to the creating of a new friend- 



360 MEMOIR. 

ship with a stranger.' Again, he wrote me 
from Princeton, and after referring to many 
pleasing incidents of our younger days, he 
says, ' I would that you were by my side to- 
night, for I can take you back farther, and 
with more interest into such scenes, than any 
one of my friends.' Such reminiscences were 
very pleasant to him, and we have conversed 
hours and hours upon the incidents of the 
past. But while referring to such matters 
of interest, he seldom failed to call my atten- 
tion to the great object of life, and his faith- 
fulness made a deep impression on my mind. 
I have preserved all his letters, and every 
one contains some kind admonition. In one 
of the last he writes, ' Be assured, my dear 
friend, that my high regard for you prompts 
to the earnest desire that the social inter- 
course which I delight to hold with you, 
may be perpetuated in a better land.' 

" I love to contemplate the consistency of 
his Christian character, as well as those 
gentle and endearing traits which secured 
the affection and esteem of all who knew 
him. Well might I wreathe the laurel 
midst the cypress of this solemn hour; but 



SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED. 361 

why need I speak of his labors, his sacri- 
fices, and virtues, to one who has loved and 
watched over him from infancy 1 The terms 
in which he ever made mention of his mother 
give evidence that he was deeply impressed 
with the importance of a mother's counsel ; 
and do you not find a recompense for all 
your anxious labor and care, in the ' blessed 
assurance, that he has entered into the rest 
that remaineth for the people of God ] ' 

" Please remember me to your husband and 
those friends whom I know, and believe me, 
" Very sincerely yours, J. H. M." 

"Lanesboro', April 13th, 1851. 

" My dear Mrs. Emerson, — We heard 
upon Charlotte's return from Boston, that 
your dear John had been unable to preach, 
to his people for some Sabbaths ; but were 
entirely unprepared for his death. The 
news came to us like a thunderbolt in an 
unclouded day, and oh ! how must you feel 1 
The offer of sympathy, the utterance of con- 
doling words, must be as an empty sound to 
your afflicted heart; yet I cannot forbear 
speaking in this your lonely, desolate time ; 
31 



362 MEMOIR. 

speaking of him that heaven has gained ; 
speaking of him who is now wearing the 
crown, and rejoicing in the boundless love 
and unsearchable glory of his Master. You 
must miss him, and weep over your lone- 
liness ; and every hour in the day you must 
need the promises, and the hopes that cannot 
fail to cheer one who has depended upon the 
promises, and enjoyed them so much. Will 
you not write us when you feel able, and give 
us an account of John's illness ? We feel the 
deepest sympathy possible for you and uncle 
Charles. We have often spoken of your fa- 
mily, of your constant kindness to us, of your 
happiness in your excellent children, of your 
blessing, in this pure bright star, that now 
shines in heaven. Do not fail to express to 
Mr. E. our deepest sympathy, and our ear- 
nest hope that his soul' may be cheered by 
the glorious view he has had, of the soldiers 
support in a dying hour. All terror, all 
fear, all anguish must be removed from a 
Christian's heart. The full, rich, unspeak- 
able triumph of unfaltering faith, must sup- 
port a mourning Christian. Yours, my be- 
loved friends, is to me a beautiful example 



SYMPATHY uriii THE m: in: a vrc n. 



363 



of parental fidelity, and of the power, the 
efficacy of our religion in governing a life, 
and crowning a death with triumph." 

"Cohoes, June 16th, 1851. 

"Dear Madam, — The God of all con- 
solation give you grace to sustain the sad 
affliction which in his mysterious and adora- 
ble providence you have been called upon 
to experience, in the death of your son. 
It is a bereavement in which I feel I can 
sympathize with you ; for in his early death 
many of the purposes of my own heart 
have been broken off. The intelligence of 
his departure has rested as a dark cloud 
upon my mind for the few past weeks, and 
given rise to many sad and solemn reflections. 
Death w T as a subject which seemed always 
to be present to his mind, and often formed 
the subject of our conversation ; but I little 
thought, when I parted from him at the 
school of the prophets, that I should behold 
his familiar countenance no more in the 
flesh, and that in less than two years ' One 
w r ould be taken and the other left.' In this 
dispensation, there is much which is dark 
and mysterious, and which w T e are unable 



564 



MRMOIR. 



fully to comprehend ; yet, as with the prophet 
of old, the voice of faith from the midst of 
this cloud tells us ' to draw near to this thick 
darkness where God is.' Although we can- 
not trace his footsteps, still it is our privilege 
to trust in Him, and, although we hear not 
the still small voice, yet in faith and patience 
w r e must possess our spirits. It is no doubt 
a great source of consolation to your sor- 
rowing heart, to have the precious assurance 
that what is loss to you and the church over 
which the Holy Ghost had made him an over- 
seer, is, to him, in his present experience, 
unspeakable gain. That he has exchanged 
this ; Zion of toil' for the 'Zion of rest,' 
and is even now engaged in the higher and 
holier services of the tabernacle above, I 
cannot doubt. It was my privilege, during 
our theological course at Princeton, to be 
more intimately aquainted with your son 
than any other of his classmates; and I 
regret that it was not my privilege also to 
stand by his dying couch, and listen to those 
expressions of love and confidence in his 
Saviour, which filled his lips as he drew near 
to that rest which remaineth for the people 



SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED. 365 

of God. It must be a source of consolation 
to reflect, that he was not only privileged to 
hold forth to his people to whom he was so 
much attached, the hopes of the gospel, but 
in his own blessed experience, at the dying 
hour, to give to them so clear an evidence of 
the preciousness of these hopes, w r hen heart 
and flesh begin to fail. It is sad indeed to 
think that there is a vacant seat around your 
hearth, and a familiar voice silent in death 
— that the lips of a faithful ambassador 
have been closed, and death has taken from 
him the holy commission he had received of 
the Lord Jesus ; but is it not a source of 
rejoicing, that there is another voice engag- 
ed in the anthems of redeeming love, and 
another harp tuned to the song of Moses 
and the Lamb \ Let the language of faith 
therefore, afflicted parents, still the voice of 
repining and hush the murmur of complaint. 
4 It is the Lord, let him do w r hat seemeth 
him good.' 'The Lord gave and the Lord 
hath taken away; blessed be the name of 
the Lord.' 

" Sincerely your friend, 

" C. N. W." 
31* 



3()(5 MEMOIR. 



"Boston, May 14, 1851. 

u Mrs. Emerson, 
" My dear Friend, — It has not been 
my privilege for a long time to commu- 
nicate with you. I remember, with much 
pleasure, interviews had with you in days 
long since gone by ; your zeal, and the 
intensity of your interest in the missionary 
cause, and in the cause of Zion generally ; 
and should be happy again to sit down 
by your side, and recount the dealings of 
the Lord with us since we last met, par- 
ticularly with you, and your family. Truly 
the Lord has come very near to you and your 
family, in the removal of one greatly beloved 
by you, and by a large circle of friends who 
were strongly attached to him. I have felt 
a sympathy in this bereavement, and an in- 
clination to express it to you, but have omit- 
ted it, owing to my infirmities, and chiefly 
to the fact that a very large amount of sym- 
pathy must have been expressed by your 
numerous friends, and the friends of your 
beloved and departed son who are around 
you, which rendered such an expression 



SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED. 367 

from mc less urgent. I feel, dear friend, 
that I am addressing one who has confi- 
dence in God, and will not allow a murmur 
at his dispensations. I feel, therefore, much 
relief in addressing you concerning this dis- 
pensation of Divine Providence, for, I doubt 
not, that you are reconciled to the will of God, 
though he has removed from your sight a 
beloved son, — concerning whom your hopes 
were raised that he was to comfort you in 
your advancing age, and that you should see 
the work of the Lord prospering in his hands. 
This is a stroke of Divine Providence that 
reaches the heart, especially a parent's heart. 
But, be still, and know that it is from a 
Father's hand. This event, viewed on the 
great scale of eternity, is doubtless merciful, 
though it seems, on a superficial view, to be 
only afflictive. There is affliction in it. Na- 
ture weeps — we mourn the loss. All this, 
no doubt, is the necessary discipline to in- 
sure the everlasting good. How greatly 
God has honored you in giving you such a 
son — more honor, a thousandfold, than to 
have been the mother of Napoleon, or Alex- 
ander the Great. Your beloved son was early 



368 



MEMOIR. 



engaged in the service of the King of Kings, 
his attacks were on the kingdom of Satan ; 
and we cannot doubt he is now in the 
kingdom of heaven, enjoying and possessing 
greater honors than were ever possessed by 
any who were renowned on earth. Though 
your present loss is great and severe, yet 
there is sweet consolation in the cup of 
affliction ; you have a son in heaven. Asso- 
ciated with Christ, with angels, and with 
the 'spirits of just men made perfect.' Could 
you wish to recall him 1 Let this assurance 
dry up your tears. He has exchanged a 
scene of labor and toil, for which his feeble 
and delicate frame and sensibilities seemed 
hardly sufficient, for a new employment, — 
praise to God and to the Lamb, — in that 
world for which he seemed prepared. In 
his new sphere he will never say I am sick. 
He shall suffer no more pain ; God himself 
has wiped away every tear from his eye. 
Let these considerations, at which I can 
only hint, comfort you, and may they com- 
fort the bereaved flock, who are left as 
sheep without a shepherd. Jesus Christ, 
the great Head of the church, cares for you, 



SYMPATHY WITH THE BEREAVED. 369 

and cares for them ; He sympathizes with 
you, and will make the affliction to work 
for good. Jesus wept at the grave of Laz- 
arus. He loved him. Rejoice that you 
was permitted to hear the voice of your 
beloved son, preaching the glorious gospel 
of the son of God. His ministry was short; 
he has entered on his everlasting rest. 
' Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord.' 
6 That life is long which answers life's great 
end.' I need not extend these considera- 
tions ; you know them all, and they are your 
support." 

Many other letters were received similiar 
in spirit and kindness to these. Several also 
were received during Mr. Emerson's sickness. 
I will select from these but one, which w r as 
from a sister of Mr. Emerson, Senior, and 
which forcibly illustrates the fact, that an 
afflicted heart know r s best how to sympathize 
with the afflicted : — 

" Conway, Feb. 26th, 1851. 

" Dear Sister, — I trust you have not 
attributed my long silence to want of kind 
remembrance and affectionate sympathy. I 



370 



MEMOIR. 



assure you I have thought of you often and 
anxiously, and longed very much to hear 
whether the afflictive dispensation that seem- 
ed so trying, was still pressing upon you, or 
whether the cloud of sorrow had broken in 
a shower of mercy, manifesting anew the 
faithfulness and love of that kind Hand that 
doeth all things well. 

" My own heart has bled too often beneath 
the chastening stroke of affliction not to feel 
deeply the sorrows of others. One after 
another of my household jew T els have been 
gathered, till all are gone. Oh, how deeply 
I feel the loss of my dear son, my last 
earthly prop. I thought he was just what 
I needed in the decline of life, so kind and 
affectionate to his mother. He anticipated 
much pleasure in having me with him, and 
making me happy. When I look upon 
that heavy, painful stroke, as an act of love 
on the part of God, it reconciles me. It 
brings me to my Fathers bosom, to think 
that there is just as much love in putting 
upon my soul this burden of sorrow, as 
there will be in putting upon it the eternal 
weight of glory ; just as much love in mak- 



SYMPATHY WITH THK HERE AVE D. 



371 



ing the heart break with anguish, as in 
waking it to the glad hallelujahs of heaven. 
Now, dear sister, these thoughts are very 
sweet to me, for they bring me nearer to 
God. And I feel also brought nearer to 
my dear departed ones, who are living now, 
I trust, in the light of God's love. When 
I think of the crown of life, I think of it 
as resting upon their brow; when I think 
of Paradise, it is their home ; of the Foun- 
tain of Life, they are drinking of its pure 
waters ; and my soul turns to the great Giver 
with gratitude and praise for thus blessing 
those so dear to me. Sometimes when my 
soul is filled with these sweet thoughts, it 
seems as if I am surrounded by the bright 
spirits of the upper world ; and that, if they 
were susceptible to mortal touch, I might 
reach upward my hand, and clasp the hand 
of some angel, or, perhaps, some of my own 
dear ones bending over me with that happy, 
holy look, that beamed upon us from dear 
William on his death-bed. Or if my eyes 
were not held by this mortal bondage, I feel 
as though I might behold the reconciled 
face of my Heavenly Father resting upon 



372 



MEMOIR. 



me with a smile of love. While I thank 
God for thus permitting me to sympathize 
in the blessedness of my dear ones, in mo- 
ments when my heart is bowed down by 
the sorrows and burdens of earth, I thank 
him also, that they are free; that not one 
burden or weight can press upon their souls 
for a moment ; not one shadow r darken their 
bright pathway, but that all is forever un- 
clouded sunshine, undisturbed peace. I 
thank him that they are in their Father's 
house, breathing only the atmosphere of 
love ; w^hile we are still out upon the trou- 
bled ocean of time, wdth the billows dashing 
around us, and the breakers before us. I 
know T how hard it is to say, ' Thy will be 
done,' when our brightest earthly hopes are 
blighted, and ray after ray of the sunshine 
that illumined our pathway, is extinguished 
in darkness. But God has said, 'My grace 
is sufficient for you,' and w r e can only find 
peace in looking away to Him, w T ho, in 
lessening the ties of earth, is only increasing 
the treasures beyond. This winter my health 
has been unusually feeble, but I feel that I 
can no longer delay the expression of my 



SYMPATHY WITH TUK BEREAVED. 



373 



sympathy for your sorrow, and my earnest 
desire to hear from you again. Only a 
mother can sympathize with your feelings. 
John was a son of bright promise, and you 
have seen him rise step after step, until he 
had gained the summit of your highest 
expectations ; clad in the gospel armor, and 
standing upon the heights of Zion. And 
now, what if God should call him up still 
higher, and clothe him in the immortal 
robe, and place upon his head the crown 
of glory ! Would it not be well I Would 
you, dear sister, hold him back from that 
higher ministration, that more glorious ser- 
vice % What we have given to God, should 
we not leave to his disposal 1 " 



32 



CHAPTER IX. 

VIEW OF HIS CHARACTER AND INFLUENCE. 

In viewing the various features of Mr. 
Emerson's character, social, intellectual and 
moral, we are struck with their harmonious 
development, and their mutual happy influ- 
ence upon each other. The refinement and 
delicacy of his social nature seemed to act 
upon his intellect, and through both were 
diffused the spirit of his elevated and ardent 
piety. There were none of those defective 
or repulsive peculiarities about him that are 
often found in persons eminent for mental 
endowments, or high religious attainments, 
or great usefulness. It was not necessary, 
in forming an opinion of his character, to 
make large draughts upon his virtues to 
reconcile us to some glaring defects or in- 
consistencies. His mind, and heart, and 
habits, were all well balanced, and over the 



VIEW OF HIS CHARACTER. 375 

whole was diffused the sweet incense of a 
holy life. 

The chief element in his character was, 
as we have seen, religion. With a nature 
unusually susceptible to serious impres- 
sions ; favored with Christian parental in- 
fluences such as few children enjoy, it was 
his privilege to become very early the sub- 
ject of renewing grace. His piety at once 
assumed a very elevated and spiritual type. 
There was nothing formal, or obtrusive, or 
fitful in it. It burned as a pure, bright, 
steady flame, and as he advanced in years it 
grew with his growth and strengthened with 
his strength. It became incorporated into all 
his habits and feelings, and became a part 
of his very existence. 

His religious views were founded not on 
a childish superstition or fear, not on a ro- 
mantic sentimentalism, but on the funda- 
mental doctrines of the Bible. He loved to 
study and meditate upon the doctrines of 
the atonement, the necessity of regenera- 
tion, our dependence upon the Holy Spirit, 
the resurrection, the divinity of Christ, and 
the doctrine of the Trinity. The Bible was 



?U 6 MEMOIR. 

his constant companion, his meat and drink, 
liis guide, support, hope, his all. He felt 
too his dependence upon prayer. This was 
the main spring of his religion, the source 
of his spiritual joys, the secret of his Chris- 
tian influence. He only felt safe when he 
was near to his Heavenly Father ; when he 
was watched over by that eye that never 
slumbers or sleeps. In all his anxieties and 
troubles he went directly to God. He sought 
shelter under his wings from every danger ; 
sought his guidance in every perplexity ; 
sought strength from him for every conflict ; 
sought his forgiveness for all his sins. In 
God he lived, and moved, and had his be- 
ing. 

The high state of spirituality to which 
Mr. Emerson attained, w 7 e w T ould not have 
the reader suppose was reached without 
effort. Besides the indications given in his 
journal and letters of his strong exertions to 
advance in spirituality, there were, in his 
hours of retirement, secret struggles and 
conflicts w T ith sin, the severity of which are 
known only to himself and his God. The 
corruptions of his heart, the tendency of 



VIEW OF HIS CHARACTER. 377 

his mind to indulge in unholy thoughts and 
worldly desires, he had constantly to fight 
against. At one time while in college he 
did wander from the path of Christian duty, 
but with repentance and mourning he re- 
turned to his Fathers house, and sought and 
obtained forgiveness. 

His piety developed itself too in strong 
desires, as we have seen, to be useful. He 
was anxious that all his Christian friends 
should live in intimate communion with 
God — that they should be burning and 
shining lights in the world — that they 
should attain unto perfect sanctification. 

In the conversion and salvation of the 
impenitent he also felt, as we have seen, a 
deep and abiding interest. He seemed to 
have views of the value of the soul which 
very few Christians possess. He looked at 
his fellow-men in their moral relations, 
looked at them as beings hastening to the 
judgment-seat, as beings before whom the 
dread realities of eternity would very soon 
open. He was ever ready to pray for them, 
and converse with them, and do all in his pow- 
er to bring them to repentance. He watched 
32* 



378 MEMOIR. 

for the indications of the presence of the 
Holy Spirit with the deepest solicitude, and 
rejoiced with exceeding joy when sinners 
were converted to God. 

In society Mr. Emerson was remarkable 
for his extreme affability and courtesy. The 
first time that I was introduced to him I 
was struck with his ease, politeness, and re- 
finement of manners. I could not help at 
once receiving him to my heart, and feeling 
an interest in his welfare. And the experi- 
ence of others was similar to my own. Nor 
can we fail to discover here one secret of his 
extensive popularity and usefulness. Be- 
sides being a devout Christian and a diligent 
student, he was a gentleman, in the true and 
full import of the term. He did not con- 
sider that either his piety or his talents gave 
him a license to treat any one with indiffer- 
ence or coldness. He obeyed to the letter 
the apostolic injunction, " Be courteous." — 
This Christian virtue shone forth from his 
character at ail times, and gave a lustre and 
power to his other virtues and attainments. 

If all Christians w r ould imitate Mr. Emer- 
son in this particular, their piety would no 



VIEW OF HIS CHARACTER. 379 

doubt be more effective than it now is ; and 
men would more frequently " sec their good 
works, 1 ' and be led to glorify their " Father 
who is in heaven." For if we cannot reckon 
courtesy as among the evidences of true 
piety, the absence of it is, at least, proof of 
a very defective Christian character, if not of 
the positive supremacy of depravity in the 
heart. 

As a preacher, Mr. Emerson was distin- 
guished for his deep feeling, appropriateness, 
and, oftentimes, true eloquence. His de- 
meanor in the pulpit was solemn and dig- 
nified ; his manner was impressive and at- 
tractive. "When he rose to speak, there 
was an indescribable something in his ad- 
dress, — a mingling of gentleness, fervor and 
spirituality, that at once attracted attention, 
and awakened the interest of his auditors. 
They felt that they were in the presence of 
" a man of God," that a messenger from the 
eternal throne had come to speak to them, 
and that it became them to listen to his 
words. 

His prayers arrested the attention of his 
spiritual hearers. "All who ever had the 



3S0 



MEMOIR. 



privilege of hearing him pray," says one, 
" were struck with the uncommon felicity 
and beauty, as well as the high tone of piety 
manifest in his devotional exercises. In 
this respect he was seldom equalled, and 
never surpassed. There was a great variety 
in his prayers. Nothing escaped his notice, 
but with a grace and pertinency peculiar to 
himself, every passing event was woven into 
his petitions." 

An intimate friend of Mr. Emerson, being 
requested by another to describe this heavenly 
gift, replied, — 

" As well ask me to describe the per- 
fume of flowers as it is borne to heaven 
from the opening blossoms, or explain the 
melody of music as it floats on the evening 
breeze. Prayer w r as to his spiritual life, like 
breath to his physical existence ; it was the 
constant aspiration of a soul who dwelt in 
the atmosphere of holy love. The public 
prayers of the sanctuary were not with him, 
as with too many, a mere prefatory exercise, 
but they were preparatory to the sermon, 
fitting both speaker and hearer for the ex- 
position and reception of truth. They were 



VIEW OF HIS CHARACTER. 



381 



brief and comprehensive, varying as the 
wants of his congregation and passing pub- 
lic events required. I remember well the 
interest manifested in a small country con- 
gregation one Sunday, during the California 
excitement, when he prayed for that land 
where there was much gold, and for the 
thousands who had gone in search of the 
hidden treasure. Earnestly he prayed for 
their spiritual interests, and that, though 
successful in their search after the choicest 
treasures of this world, they might not forget 
the priceless pearl of eternal life, or dwell 
amid a famine of the word of God. It 
happened that many in that little congrega- 
tion had husbands, or sons, or neighbors in 
that distant land, and never before had they 
heard a public petition in their behalf. 
Their hearts were softened, for the petitions 
found an echo in their own souls, and they 
were better fitted to profit by the sermon. 

" I find, among his papers, no prayer writ- 
ten for the pulpit, and had I done so, it 
would have failed to give you an idea of the 
fervor, earnestness, and deep reverence of his 
public prayers. His enunciation was distinct 



382 



MEMOIR. 



and slow, but never marked by hesitation ; it 
was the slowness of reverence, not the lack of 
words, for his language flowed on like a deep, 
broad river, seeking the ocean. I think I 
am not mistaken, when I say that he would 
not have considered it any help in his public 
duties to have a brother make the opening 
prayer. He agreed in sentiment with good 
old Mr. Milton, of Temple-street church, 
though there might have been less abrupt- 
ness in his mode of expression. A young 
clergyman was once officiating for Mr. M., 
and asked the old gentleman, after they 
entered the pulpit, to make the prayer for 
him. ' Whet your own tools,' was the blunt 
reply, in an audible whisper. 

" Your pastor began early to pray in pub- 
lic. His first efforts were in the little, dark, 
gloomy vestry on Beck street. There the 
clear, sweet tones of his childish voice might 
often be heard, following the trembling peti- 
tions of those trembling elders, whose feet 
already touched the bank of Jordan. That 
was a sacred spot to him, and how often has he 
turned aside with alacrity, from his books or 
his play, to join the prayer meeting. There, 



VIEW OF HIS CHARACTER. 383 

as I said, were his first lessons in public 
devotion, and his last pulpit exercise was a 
prayer, a broken prayer. Broken, did I say? 
No, changed to an unending song of praise." 

A lady who had never spoken with him, 
was heard inquiring with much interest 
about the particulars of his death. " Then 
you were acquainted with him," said a friend. 
"A prayer-meeting acquaintance," she re- 
plied, with much emphasis ; and that inter- 
course alone had won her interest and 
affection. ■ 

In his sermons he displayed, among other 
qualities, a brilliant imagination. On this 
point a friend says : " It is true that he pos- 
sessed, in a high degree, this power, but it 
was matured and enriched, not by the study 
of the Greek or Homan classics, though, with 
the taste of a scholar, he admired and loved 
these — nor in the modern school of romance 
and poetry ; but by the influence which an 
early and habitual study of the Bible exer- 
cised upon his intellect and heart. The 
visions of the enraptured Isaiah, the glorious 
imagery of Job, the quaint sententiousness 
of the Proverbs, and the beautiful simplicity 



384 MEMOIR. 

of the patriarchal narratives, were fully ap- 
preciated by him. 

"The Bible was not only his text-book 
and guide, the source from which he drew 
the doctrines of his theology, and the pre- 
cepts for daily life, but it was the source also 
from which he culled the beautiful imagery 
which adorned his sermons. 

" He was delighted to find that in the 
glorious world of inspiration, as in that of 
nature, God has scattered living flowers. 
Those which he most delighted to gather, 
for they grew in his favorite haunts, were 
found in the vale of Sharon, on the mount 
of Ascension, and in the garden of Geth- 
semane. 

" From the time when he could first spell 
out in his little Testament ' God is love,' 
to the last year in Princeton, w T hen, with 
his Greek and Hebrew Bibles, he drank 
large draughts of living water from the 
well of life, the Bible was his delight and 
treasure. I do not say that he could not 
appreciate Shakspeare and Milton, Words- 
worth and Cowper. His correct taste could 
not fail to do this ; and these were his favor- 



VIEW OF HIS CHARACTER. 



385 



ites, so far as he could be said to have any 
aside from the Word of God. But he had 
consecrated himself, when a child, to the 
work of the ministry, and he considered 
the Bible as the arsenal, from which, he 
must draw his weapons and his armor, 
offensive and defensive. He searched it, 
thinking less of the honor of the victor 
than how to fight manfully. 

" His experience has verified what even 
the wisest of this world have already told us, 
that there is no book so well fitted to culti- 
vate the fancy, purify the taste, and enlarge 
the intellect, as the Bible." 

Mingled with this love of the beautiful, 
was a quickness of comprehension, and an 
aptness to peculiar occasions, w r hich was 
ready to serve him at all times. One instance 
of his readiness I will relate. When a 
student, he was present during a vacation at 
the regular weekly lecture, from which, the 
minister was unexpectedly detained. 

A large audience had assembled in the 

lecture-room, and several of the elders of 

the church were invited to take charge of 

the meeting, but declined. Mr. Emerson 

33 



380 MEMOIR. 

was applied to, and at first refused on ac- 
count of his youth. Being urged, he at last 
consented. He ascended the desk, and look- 
ing over the assembly, he said, "There is 
a lad here who has five barley-loaves and 
two small fishes ; but what are they among 
so many." He then went on and made a 
very appropriate and impressive address; 
and all retired, at the close of the meeting, 
feeling that they had each received " their 
portion of meat in due season." 

This aptness in making quotations and 
allusions, enlivened all his discourses and 
public addresses, and enabled him to turn 
to the best advantage, incidents that were 
transpiring. 

Mr. Emerson's views' of the fundamental 
doctrines of the Christian faith, were very 
clear and firm. In his practical sermons he 
interwove more or less of doctrinal in- 
struction, and often selected some important 
doctrine, as the theme of an entire discourse. 
His people have spoken to me with great 
interest of his sermons on the atonement, 
justification by faith, and topics of a kindred 
nature. 



VIF.W OF His CHARACTER. 



387 



The burden, however, of his preaching was 
" Christ and him crucified." He delighted 
in delineating the character of the blessed 
Saviour — in exhibiting the attractions of 
the cross — in unfolding the mysteries of 
redemption. Feeling his own entire de- 
pendence upon Christ for salvation, he knew 
that others must build upon this same rock, 
or perish. He knew that " There is none 
other name under heaven, given among men, 
whereby we must be saved." This great 
truth was not only treasured up in his 
memory, but it took strong hold of all the 
faculties and powers of his soul. He not 
only believed it, but he felt it It forced its 
way down through his intellect into the 
deepest recesses of his heart. Hence when 
he preached this doctrine, it came gushing 
forth from his heart ; it came clothed w T ith 
all the power and eloquence that strong 
emotion could impart. 

His faith, indeed, was at all times steeped, 
as it were, in intense feeling. Whenever 
he contemplated, or preached upon the 
truths of our holy religion, his heart seemed 
to act upon his intellect, and his intellect 



388 MEMOIR. 

upon the heart, until his whole being was 
kindled into a glow, that rendered his words 
irresistible. There was sometimes in his 
preaching a higher element than eloquence. 
It was the Spirit of the living God, de- 
scending through his young servant as 
through an electric conductor, and thus 
communicated to the audience, who hung 
upon his lips. He had been so long looking 
forward to the gospel ministry, had offered 
up so many fervent prayers, that, like a 
variety of streams taking their rise from a 
cluster of mountains, they all met and flowed 
on as a mighty river, fertilizing and blessing 
those who came within the reach of their 
influence, and bearing upon their bosom his 
ardent spirit, until they w r ere lost in the ocean 
of eternity. His strong desire to serve his 
Master continued up to the last hour of his 
life. He seemed to die preaching Christ 
and him crucified. 

The following letter, which I have just 
received, furnishes abundant evidence of this 
fact. 



VIEW OF HIS CHARACTER, 380 

M Xewburvport, June 17th, 1851. 

" Eev. R. W. Clark, 

M My dear Sir, — As I learn that you are 
preparing a Memoir of our late beloved 
Pastor, the Eev. Mr, Emerson, I embrace 
the opportunity to bear testimony to the 
rich blessings which I have received through 
his influence. His name will be ever held 
by me in the sweetest remembrance. His 
advice, his instructions, his earnest entreaties 
to me the day before he died, concerning my 
immortal interests, I shall never forgot. 

" I came to Xewburyport in September, 
1850, a stranger to the people and a stranger 
to the religion of our Lord Jesus Christ. 
By the invitation of some of his people I 
went to hear Mr. Emerson preach, and at 
once I became interested and attached to 
him. His preaching awakened in me feel- 
ings such as I never before experienced. 
Every time that I heard him preach, or even 
passed him in the street, I thought that he 
was the best friend I had on earth. Al- 
though my personal acquaintance with him 
was slight, yet his preaching seemed to be 
exactly suited to my case, and I was aroused 
33* 



390 



MEMOIR. 



to a sense of my perishing condition with- 
out Christ. 

" I had a great desire to see him and talk 
with him upon religion. But my business 
absorbed my time, and as what I thought a 
favorable opportunity did not occur, I did 
not have an interview with him, until I was 
called to bid him a long farewell. At the 
beginning of the year I formed the resolution 
to abstain from dancing, card playing, and 
other gay amusements, but I did not, simply 
by this, obtain peace for my soul. On re- 
flecting upon my past course, I found that I 
had been a great sinner. I had been be- 
reaved of my pious parents when I was but 
nine years of age, and was left in the care 
of an only sister, who was older than my- 
self, and who was an eminently devoted 
Christian. She, too, was taken from me by a 
mysterious stroke of Divine Providence, and 
I was left alone in the world. I know not 
that I have a single near relative in the world. 
My sister's dying entreaties to me to seek an 
interest in Christ, that I might meet her in 
heaven, and my sad neglect of her counsels, 
were brought forcibly to my mind by Mr. 
Emerson's preaching. His appeals and 



VIEW OF HIS CHARACTER. 301 

warnings to the impenitent, drove deep con- 
viction into my heart. 

" In this alarmed and anxious state of mind 
I continued until Mr. Emerson was confined 
to his bed of sickness. I longed to see him 
and talk with him, for I felt that he alone 
could administer the balm to my wounded, 
bleeding heart. 

" I called to see him two days before he 
expired, but he was so feeble and low that I 
was told that I could not see him. I went 
away deeply grieved with the thought that 
probably I should never see him again, and 
that he would never talk with me. The 
next day a message came to me, that if I 
would go directly down to the house I could 
see him. I hastened down, and, on entering 
the room he recognized me, took me very 
affectionately by the hand, and said he was 
glad to see me. Being told, that if he did 
not feel strong enough, he had better not 
converse with me, he roused up, and ad- 
dressed me as one who had risen from the 
grave ; his countenance, manner, and voice 
were so full of earnestness and deep heavenly 
feelings. He expressed regret that he had 
not seen and talked with me before ; said 



392 MEMOIR. 

he had felt a strong interest in my spiritual 
welfare, and had desired to tell me about the 
glorious religion of Jesus Christ. c O, sir,' 
said he, ' this is a solemn and honest hour to 
me — at this hour men will deal honestly 
with themselves. Will you not, my young 
friend, take Christ as your portion'? Will you 
not give your heart to God? He will more 
than make up to you the loss of your dear 
parents. He has promised to be " a Father 
to the fatherless," and he will guide you safe 
through life, and give you at last a home 
in heaven, if you will but put your trust in 
him." ' He then entreated me in the most 
earnest and persuasive manner to embrace 
Christ, and to serve him faithfullv. I as- 
sured him that I would try to do so. ' Oh,' 
said he, ' pray, pray, pray much. Pray to 
God, and he will hear you. " Seek him 
while he may be found." ' I gave him my 
word that I would. 

" He again took my hand, and I looked for 
the last time upon his heavenly countenance. 
I was the last impenitent person with whom 
he conversed. 

" On retiring, I resolved to keep my pro- 
mises, and I thanked God most devoutly for 



VIEW OP II IS CHARACTER. 393 

granting to me this precious interview. I 
went to my chamber, and humbly acknow- 
ledging my past sins, I implored forgiveness. 
The Lord graciously heard my prayer, and 
through the merits of his Son, I trust that I 
have obtained favor and salvation. I now 
enjoy peace of mind, such as the pleasures of 
the w r orld never afforded me. 

" On the last Sabbath, June 15th, I was 
admitted as a member of the Whitefield 
Church, and I would, clear sir, humbly ask 
an interest in your supplications at the 
throne of grace, that I may be sustained in 
my Christian profession, that I may be en- 
abled to resist all temptation — be carried 
safe through life's changing scenes, and be 
prepared to meet death, as did our beloved 
Pastor, who kindly told us how to live, and 
showed us how to die. 

"With the highest respect, I subscribe 
myself, 

" Your obedient servant, J. L." 

Mr. Emerson's conversation and prayers, 
during his sickness, have been blessed to 
others also ; and may we not hope that he 
will be permitted to welcome to heaven a 



394 



MKMOIR, 



vast multitude, saved through his instru- 
mentality'? My dear reader, shall he wel- 
come you to that bright world \ Could he 
leave for a season the mansions of the new 
Jerusalem, and wing his way back to earth 
and sit by your side, would he not entreat 
you to be prepared for eternity ? Would 
he not with streaming eyes, and with a heart 
beating with intense anxiety — would he 
not, in accents of melting tenderness, plead 
with you to love the Saviour ? If you are 
already entertaining a hope of heaven, would 
he not say to you, « Strive, strive to enter in 
at the strait gate ; ' ' Run with patience the 
race set before you, looking unto Jesus,' 
looking unto Jesus \ If you are still in 
impenitence, would he not tell you of the 
thrills of joy that run through the shining 
ranks of the angels of God, when one sin- 
ner repents ? If indeed he could utter one 
wish respecting this memoir, would it not 
be, that God the Father, and God the Son, 
and God the Holy Ghost, might bless it to 
your conversion and final salvation 1 



APPENDIX. 

A. 

NAMES OF CLERGYMEN, 

Natives of Newbury and Newburyport, Massachusetts. 

Adams, Rev. Benjamin, born 8 May, 1738, died 4 May, 1777. 
Adams, Rev. Joseph, settled in Stratham, N. H., and died 1785. 
Atkinson, Rev. Jonathan, Dartmouth, 1787, was living in 1821. 
Atkinson, Rev. Charles M., born June 17, 1819, Amherst, 1844. 
Allen, Rev. Ephm. W., b. 1813, Amherst, 1838, N. Reading, Mass. 

Bailey, Rev. James, born 12 Sept. 1650, d. in Roxbury 17 Jan. 1707. 

Bailey, Rev. Abner, born 15 Jan. 1716, died 10 March, 1793. 

Bailey, Rev. Josiah, ordained at Hampton Falls, N. H. 

Bailey, Rev. Joseph H., ord. at N. Dighton, Mass. 

Bailey, Rev. Kiah, Dartmouth, 1793, now in Hard wick, Vt. 

Barnard, Rev. Thomas, D. D. ord. in Salem, Mass. 

Boardman, Rev. John, born 1795, settled in Douglass, died 1842. 

Bartlet, Rev. William S. 

Bartlet, Rev. Josiah. 

Brown, Rev. Richard, Harvard, died 1732. 

Brown, Rev. Samuel, Harvard, ord. in Abington, died 1749. 

Brown, Rev. Charles. 

Caldwell, Rev. Samuel, Baptist, Bangor, Me. 
Cary, Rev. Samuel, ord. in Boston, died in England, 1815. 
Carter, Rev. Harnden, born 1807, settled in Athens, Georgia. 
Chase, Rev. Stephen, born 1705, Harvard, died 1778. 
Chase, Rev. Moses B., Bovvdoin, 1831, Chaplain in Navy. 
Chase, Rev. Plummer, born 1794, settled in Carver, Mass. 
Clark, Rev. John, born 1670, Harvard, ord. in Exeter, died 1705. 
Clark, Rev. Thomas M., D. D., Yale, settled in Hartford, Conn. 
Clark, Rev. Rufus W., Yale, settled in Portsmouth, N. H. 
Clark, Rev. George H., Yale, settled in Darien, Georgia. 



396 ArPENDix. 

Clark, Rev. Samuel A., settled in Philadelphia. 

Coffin, Rev. Enoch, Harvard, died 1723. 

Coffin, Rev. Paul, D. D., Harvard, ord. in Buxton, Me., died 1821. 

Coffin, Rev. Ebenezer, Harvard, ord. in Brunswick, Me., died 1316. 

Coffin, Rev. Charles, D. D., b. 1775, Pres. of Greenville Col., Tenn. 

Conch, Rev. Paul, bom 1803, settled in North Bridgewater, Mass. 

Conch, Rev. Paul, nephew of the above. 

Coombs, Rev. John, resides in Newburyport. 

Crocker, Rev. William, Missionary to Africa. 

Cutler, Rev. Samuel. 

Dummer, Rev. Shubael, born 1636, killed by Indians in York, 1692. 
David, Rev. John W. 

Dana, Rev. Wm. C, b. 1S10, Dartmouth, set. in Charleston, S. C. 
Dole, Rev. George T., Yale, ord. in Beverly, JMass. 

Emery, Rev. Samuel, born 1070, ord. in Wells, Me., died 1724. 
Emery, Rev. Stephen, Harvard, 1730, settled in Nottingham, N. H. 
Emery, Rev. Samuel M., b. 1804, Harvard, settled in Portland, Ct. 
Emery, Rev. Samuel H., 1315, Amherst, now in Taunton, Mass. 
Emerson, Rev. John, Harvard, ord. in Topsfield, died 1774. 
Emerson, Rev. John E., born 1823, settled in Newburyport, d. 1361. 

Gerrish, Rev. Joseph, born 1650, ord. in Wenham, died 1720. 
Greenleaf, Rev. Daniel, born 1630, ord. North Yarmouth, died 1763. 
Greenleaf, R.ev. Jonathan, ordained in 1815 in Wells, Me., settled in 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 
Greenleaf, Rev. William. 

Hale, Rev. Moses, born 1673, Harvard, ord. in Newbury, died 1743. 
Hale, Rev. Moses, b. 1703, Harvard, ord. in Chester, N. H. in 1731. 
Hale, Rev. Moses, b. 1715, Harvard, settled in Newbury, died 1779. 
Hale, Rev. Moses, son of preceding, b. 1749, ord. Boxford, d. 1786. 
Hale, Rev. Benjamin, D. D., President of Geneva College, N. Y. 
Hill, Rev. William, deceased. 

Hooper, Rev. Hezekiah, born 1769, Harvard, ord. Boylston. 
Horton, Rev. William, settled in Brookline, Mass. 
Howard, Rev. William G., Amherst, 1835. 
Hervey, Rev. T., Jr. 

Jewett, Rev. Caleb, Dartmouth, ord. Gorham, Me., died in 1S00. 
Jaques, Rev. Richard, born 1700, ord. Gloucester, died 1777. 

Kelly, Rev. William, born 1744, ord. in Warner, N. H., died 1813. 



APPENDIX. 397 

Lord, Rev. Thomas, born 1807, ord. Topsham, Me., 1337. 

Lane, llev. , Baptist clergyman. 

Lunt, Rev. William P., born 1805, ord. in Quincy, 1825. 

March, Rev. Edmund, born 1703, ord. in Amesbury, d. 1791. 
March, Rev. John C, born 1805, Yale, ord. in Newbury, 1832, dec. 
Merrill, Rev. Nathaniel, b. 1713, ord. in Nottingham West, d. 1796. 
Merrill, Rev. Nathaniel, born 1743, ord. Boscawen, died 1791. 
Merrill, Rev. Thomas, born 1814, Waterville. 
Moody, Rev. Samuel, b. 1675, Harvard, ord. in York, and d. 174?. 
Moody, Rev. John, born 1705, ord. Newmarket, died 1773. 
Moody, Rev. Amos, born 1739, ord. Pelham, N. H., d. 1819. 
Moody, Rev. Silas, born 1742, Harvard, ord. Arundel, d. 1316. 
Morse, Rev. John, b. 1670, ord. Newton, L. I. 
Morse, Rev. Joseph, b. 1672, Harvard, ord. Stoughton, d. 1732. 
Morss, Rev. James, D. D., born 1779, Harvard, Rector in Newbury 

port, d. 1842. 
Morss, Rev. Jacob B., son of preceding. 
Moseley, Rev. William O., Harvard, settled in Scituate, Mass. 

Noyes, Rev. James, b. 1640, settled in Stonington, Conn., d. 1719. 
Noyes, Rev. Moses, born 1643, ord. in Lyme, d. 1726. 
Noyes, Rev. Edmund, born 1729, ord. Salisbury, died 1809. 
Noyes, Rev. Nicholas, born 1647, ord. in Salem, died 1717. 
Noyes, Rev. Nathaniel, b. 1735, ord. Southampton, N. H., d. 1810. 
Noyes, Rev. Thomas, Harvard, died in Newbury. 
Noyes, Rev. Jeremiah, Dartmouth, ord. Gorham, died 1S07. 
Noyes, Rev. George R., D. D. 5 b. 1798, Prof, of Heb. in Har. Univ. 

Otis, Rev. George, Tutor in Harvard and Professor, died 1328. 

Pidgin, Rev. William, born 1771, ord. in Hampton, N. H. 
Pierce, Rev. Thomas, born 1637, ord. in Scarboro'. Me., died 1775. 
Pike, Rev. James, born 1703, ord. Somersworth, N. H., died 1792. 
Pike, Rev. John, Bowdoin, ord. in Rowley, 1841. 
Pike, Rev. Francis V., Yale, settled in Rochester, N. H., deceased. 
Prince, Rev. Ebenezer, born 1771, ord. Belfast, Me. 

Rawson, Rev. Edward, Harvard, 1653. 
Rawson, Rev. Grindal, Harvard, 1673. 

Rolfe, R,ev. Benj., born 1662, ord. Haverhill, killed by Indians 1708. 
Rolfe, Rev. Benj., born 1764, ord. Parsonsfield, Maine, died 1S26. 
34 



*> { JS appendix. 

Spring, Rev. Gardiner, D. D., Yale, ord. New York. loio. 

Spring, Rev. Samuel, Vale, settled in Hartford, Conn. 1826. 

Stevens, Rev. Timothy, Harvard, 1687. 

Smith, Rev. David, Harvard, 1790. 

Smith, Rev. Daniel T., born 1813, Professor in Bangor Seminary. 

Sweetser, Rev. Seth, Tutor in Harvard, now settled, Worcester, Ma. 

Tappan, Rev. Benjamin, b. 1721, ord. Manchester, Mass., d. 1790. 

Tappan, Rev. Benjamin, born 1788, ord. Augusta. 

Tappan, Rev. Daniel D., born 1798, ord. Alfred, Me. 1828. 

Toppan, Rev. Christopher, born 1670, ord. Newbury, died 1747. 

Toppan, Rev. Amos, born 1736, ordained in Kingston, died 1771. 

Tenney, Rev. David, born 1768, ord. in Barrington, N. H., d. 1778. 

Tenney, Rev. Francis V., settled in By field, Mass. 

Titcomb, Rev. Isaac, Amherst, 1836. 

Tucker, Rev. Richard, born 1316, Dartmouth, 1S35. 

Tufts, Rev. Joshua, Harvard, ord. in Litchfield, 1741. 

Tyng, Rev. Stephen H., D. D., Harvard, settled in New York. 

Tyng, Rev. James H., Bowdoin, 1827, resides in Philadelphia. 

Webber, Rev. Samuel, D. D., Prof, and Pres't of Harv. Col. in 1806. 
Webber, Rev. John, born 1762, Dartmouth, ord. in Sandown. 
Webster, Rev. Nicholas, Harvard, preached in Manchester. 
Wheelwright, Rev. Isaac W., Bowdoin, resides in Quito, South Am 
Wildes, Rev. George D., Assistant St. Paul's Church, Boston. 
Woart, Rev. Loring. 
Woart, Rev. John. 

W T oart, Rev. J. L., Harvard, perished in the Pulaski, 1838. 
Wood, Rev. Horatio, born 1807, Harvard, settled in Lowell. 
Woodman, Rev. Joseph, born 1743, ord. in Sanbornton, died 1807. 
Woodman, Rev. Henry. 

Woods, Rev. Leonard, Jr., D. D., born 1807, President of Bowrtuin 
College. 

This list is doubtless far from being complete, but it is as 
full and accurate as my means for information will allow. 
For most of the names and dates I am indebted to the excel- 
lent History of Newbury, prepared by Joshua Coffin, Esq. 



NAMES OF THE MEMBERS 



OF THE WHITEFIELD CHURCH. 



Deacons, 



William Thurston, 



William Forbes. 



JANUARY, 1850, AT THE ORGANIZATION OF THE CHURCH, 



By Letter ', 



William Thurston, 

Mrs. Dorothy P. Thurston, 

William Forbes, 

Mrs. Mary Forbes, 

Daniel Lakeman, 

Mrs. Sarah J. Lakeman, 

Josiah Emery, 

Mrs. Louisa J. Emery, 

Joseph Stickney, 

Mrs. Sally Stickney, 

Thomas Noyes, 



Mrs. Polly B, Noyes, 
Henry C. Perkins, 
Mrs. Sarah A. Bradstreet, 
Mrs. Hannah Conner, 
Mrs. Mary A. Leonard, 
Mrs. Sarah Newmarch, 
Mrs. Matilda George, 
Mrs. Mary Hesseltine, 
Miss Susan Jenness, 
Mrs. Joanna Bartlet. 



Addison Haskell, 

Mrs. Nancy D. Haskell, 



Rev. John E. Emerson, 
Mrs. Miriam Gardner, 



FEBRUARY. 

By Profession, 

Mrs. Mary S. Hodgkins. 

By Letter, 

Mrs. Phebe G. B. Frazier, 

Miss Emmeline S. Gale. 



100 



APPENDIX. 



Ebenezer Sumner, 

Mrs. Elizabeth A. Sumner, 

Ira Harden, 

Mrs. Elizabeth T. Maiden, 

Mrs. Sarah T. Wigglesworth 

Miss Sarah A. Bradstreet, 

Miss Harriet A. Cary, 

Miss Mary C. Cary, 

Miss Ann M. DeLile, 

Miss Charlotte A. Gardner, 

Miss Susan W. Jaques, 

Charles L. Emerson, 
Mrs. Rhoda P. Emerson, 
Charles Morse, 
Mrs. Mary H. Griffin, 



APRIL. 
By Profession, 

Miss Ellen T. Knapp, 
Miss Abby A. Leonard, 
Miss Elizabeth A. Pearson, 
Miss Mary A. Stanwood, 
Miss Sarah H. Stickney, 
Miss Caroline N. Taylor, 
Miss Valeria K. Titcomb, 
Miss Mary A. B. Whitten, 
Miss Caroline C. Wills, 
Miss Sarah A. Woodman. 



By Letter, 

Mrs. Ann Gould, 
Mrs. Sarah A. Carlton, 
Mrs. Caroline A. Plumer, 
Mrs. Lydia Chase. 



JUNE. 
By Profession, 
Mrs. Mary Hoyt, Miss Sarah B. Ilsley, 

Mrs. Julia A. Hodgkins, Miss Julia M. Johnson, 

* Mrs. Sarah Woodman, Miss Rebecca N. Osgood, 

Miss Henrietta P. Griffith, Miss Hannah B. Osgood. 

By Letter, 

Mrs. Rebecca N. Osgood. 



Mrs. Sarah S. Carey, 
Mrs. Hannah Elliott, 



Miss Abigail E. Goodwin. 



AUGUST. 
By Profession, 



By 



Ebenezer S. Sweetser, 
Mrs. Elizabeth M. Sweetser, 
William Knapp, 
Mrs. Tabitha Knapp, 
Miss Abigail Knapp, 
Mrs. Lucy D. Morse, 



Letter, 
George Rolfe, 
Mrs. Mary Rolfe, 
Anthony S. Jones, 
Mrs. Elizabeth A. Jones, 
Mrs. Marcy Jones, 
Miss Ruth Stickney. 



* Deceased Dec. 24th, 1850. 



APPENDIX. 



OCTOBER. 



401 



By Profession, 
Mrs. Mary E. Tarbox, Miss Ellen P. Lewis, 

Miss Ann W. Pritchard, Charles VV. Morss. 

DECEMBER. 

By Profession, 
Mrs. Mary R. Ordway, Miss Sarah M. Horton, 

Miss Lorenza N. Gardner, Miss Marcia A. J. Haynes. 

By Letter, 
Mrs. Sarah Page, Miss Lauva W. Greenleaf. 

FEBRUARY, 1851. 

By Profession, 
Miss Margaret A. Hall, Miss Mary Jameson, 

Miss Elizabeth R. Cary, Miss Jane Taylor. 

By Letter, 
Charles H. Coffin, Forrest Eaton, 

Mrs. Elizabeth A. Coffin, Mrs. Olive B. Eaton, 

Mrs. Anna H. Chickering, Thomas Griffith, 

Mrs. Susannah Patten, Mrs. Eliza Griffith. 

APRIL. 

By Profession, 
Mr. Josiah G. Hadley, Mr. John R. Longfellow, 

Mrs. Sarah G. Hadley, Mr. Albert Somerby. 

By Letter, 



Miss Harriet M. George. 



JUNE. 



By Profession, 
Mr. Joseph T. Searles, Mr. John Lyon. 



c. 

ORDER OF EXERCISES 

AT THE ORDINATION. 



I. VOLUNTARY. 

II. INVOCATION AND READING THE SCRIPTURES. 
By Rev. Mr. Fisk, of Newbury. 

III. ANTHEM. 

IV. PRAYER. 

By Rev. Mr. Cushing, of Boston. 

V. HYMN. 

VI. SERMON. 
By Rev. Rufus W. Clark, of Portsmouth, N. H. 

VII. ANTHEM. 

VIII. ORDAINING PRAYER. 
By Rev. Mr. Taylor, of Manchester. 

IX. CHARGE TO THE PASTOR. 
By Rev. L. Whiting, of Lawrence. 

X. ORIGINAL HYMN. 

By Mrs. A. E. Porter, of Springfield, Vermont. 
Our Father God, thy blessing grant, 

As in these sacred walls we pray, 
And pour with Pentecostal power 

The Spirit on thy church to-day. 



APPENDIX. 403 

Is Thou didst touch the prophet's lips, 

In thine own house, with sacred fire, 

So on thy servant breathe to-day, — 
With holy zeal, his heart inspire. 

From blood of souls, oh may he keep 
The priestly robe he now doth wear, 

And no unhallowed fire be found 
Within his golden censer there . 

Fearless as Moses, when he bore, 
From Sinai's mount, God's holy will, 

Mild as our Saviour when he spake 
The sermon on Judea's hill. 

By living streams, through pastures green, 

Oh may he lead his waiting flock ; 
But should'st the desert thou command, 

Then teach him, Lord, to smite the rock. 

Grant that the church, we form to-day, 
A true and fruitful vine may prove, 

Bearing rich clusters to adorn 
The new Jerusalem above. 

XL RIGHT HAND OF FELLOWSHIP. 
By Rev. J. Taylor, of Wenham. 

XII. ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE. 
By Rev. Daniel Fitz, of Ipswich. 

XIII. CONCLUDING PRAYER. 
By Rev. Dr. Dimmick, of Newburyport. 

XIV. DOXOLOGY. 

XV. BENEDICTION. 
By the Pastor. 



ORDER OF EXERCISES AT THE FUNERAL. 



READING OF SCRIPTURES. 
By Rev. J. Taylor, of Wenham. 

HYMN. 

By Miss H. F. Gould. 

To Thee, O Lord, in dust we kneel, 
With sorrow-stricken heart, 

Which thou alone hast balm to heal, 
W hose wisdom sped the dart. 

A flock, we mourn our shepherd, here 

No more his face to see ; 
For, while his voice is in our ear, 

His spirit dwells with Thee ! 

Earth saw him, like the sapling green, 
That sure support would find, 

Against the cross of Jesus lean, 
From every adverse wind. 

With name and heart so soon among 
The friends of Christ enrolled, 

A son of man, he was but young, 
When one of God so old ! 

His wings, beneath their mortal veil 

Prepared for early flight, 
Wore, shining, through that fabric frail, 

And, mounting, soared from sight ! 



APPENDIX. 

To us, O Lord, the wisdom give 

His teachings to apply : 
He sweetly told us how to live, 

And showed us how to die ! 

PRAYER. 
By Rev. R. W. Clark, of Portsmouth. 

REQUIEM. 
By a Member of the Church. 
Soldier of Christ, Farewell ! 
Till the last trump shall sound, 
Thy soul at rest in heaven, shall dwell, 
Thy body, in the ground. 

Before thy morning sun 
Had reached its noontide height, 
Thy service here was nobly done, 
And victory crowned the fight. 

We witnessed to thy zeal, 
In works of faith and love ; 
When death on these had set its seal, 
Thy witness was above. 

The standard thou did'st bear 
Is still to view unfurled ; 
Be it our anxious, ardent care, 
To show it to the world. 

When our last foe is slain, 
We'll lay our armor by ; 
And hope with thee to meet again, 
Mid shining hosts on high. 

Our voices joined once more, 
Shall mingle with the strains 
That saints and angels sweetly pour 
Along the heavenly plains. 
35 



405 



406 APPENDIX. 

SERMON. 
By Rev. J. F. Stearns, D. D., of Newark, N. J. 

PRAYER. 
By Rev. L. Withington, D. D. 

DIRGE. 

BENEDICTION. 
By Rev. D. Dana, D. D. 



